


Almost Without Expectation

by 1lostone



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Felching, M/M, Manpain, Voyeurism, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, bastardized French, boys being dumb, sex on camera, shocking use of rimming, use of toys, you know.. the usual.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>De-Anon from the kink meme.</p><p>Arthur and Eames are porn stars. Eames has the tattoos and the bulk, so he handles the brutish top roles. Arthur is generally cast as the twink. They work together quite frequently, but both have a brusque and casual attitude towards sex. It's when Eames notes that another muscled top has been cast to pair up with Arthur in a scene, that he starts feeling some pangs of jealousy. Bonus points if Arthur can't seem to bring himself to get it up for the new actor he's been paired with.</p><p>Edit 25 April 2017 Apparently the internet ATE my <b>FAVORITE PICTURE ON THE INTERNET</b> Thanks to Rev22x20 for letting me know. Images are at the bottom, and the links are no longer dead. Bless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlm121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlm121/gifts).



> I'm having a hell of a lot of trouble posting this with the correct formatting. I'm so very sorry, but I can't figure out how to fix it. 
> 
> There should be several images embedded within the fic. If yours do not show up, you might want to read it on lj. 
> 
> If you'd like to read it on lj, you can read it here. : http://1lostoneficspot.livejournal.com/43397.html

Eames took off his sunglasses, widening his eyes and blinking at the fairly dim lobby lighting after the brightness of outside. He had to adjust his satchel to get in the door. He smirked a little towards his reflection, tilting his head so that he could see his good side.The tight t-shirt was from before he’d bulked up, and now stretched over his sculpted bicep like sheets on a freshly made bed. The jeans were a bit old, well-worn over his thighs and the curve of his arse. He never bothered with underwear, preferring instead to go naked under his jeans.  
  
Somewhat of an occupational hazard, that.  
  
“Morning, Mr. Eames!”  
  
“Morning, pet. Sorry I’m a bit late. Traffic’s a complete and utter cock-up by the bridge. Bloody helicopters and everything.”  
  
“No problem. You’re just in time. You’re off for the morning anyway. Didn’t you get my email?” Eames shook his head. Ariadne’s little cupid mouth turned down in a frown. Even her scarf seemed to droop for a second.  
  
“No…” Eames trailed off, digging in his pocket for his phone. “Shit. It’s dead. I must not have charged it.” He made a face at the blank screen and stuck it back into his pocket. “What do you mean I’m off this morning? Aren’t I doing the dorm scene with Arthur?”  
  
Ariadne’s pleasant smile froze for just an instant. “Oh dear. You should really go talk to Mr. Saito.”  
  
Eames stopped fiddling in his pockets and froze mid-step. Saito was kind of like a case of the clap. There was some mild irritation, but you never really know it was there until your prick needed a prescription. Saito owned Dreamshare Films, and usually only stuck his nose in when there was something seriously wrong. The producer, Mal, usually handled the main day-to-day production issues. The offices of Dreamshare Films were located in a fairly quiet neighborhood. The property was gated, and had converted the tennis courts into a parking lot for the actors and staff. Dreamshare wasn’t one of the major players in the pornography industry, but they did fairly well. The main office area opened up to a series of small rooms. Some were used as dressing rooms; some were used as recreational rooms. Mal insisted that all the rooms be soundproofed, and they had they had enough lighting to make them feel like Jesus was smiling down upon them in case they needed any of the smaller rooms as sets.  
  
“Right then. I’ll be sure to do that.”  
  
Before Ariadne could reply, the phone rang. She was distracted enough not to notice the faintly worried frown Eames couldn’t help but give her. She waved him through towards the back, and he went, staring down at the floor, all traces of his cockiness from before having drained from his face.  
  
Eames had his own dressing room of course. Mal had discovered him in Vegas, conning tourists out of their winnings on mostly the strength of his crooked grin. He walked back to his room, opening the door and shutting it behind him. Normally there would be an email for him, explaining which room he was needed, and what time his call was for. He didn’t have his laptop with him, and Robert had borrowed his charger, so he was pretty well fucked until he could connect with some sort of technology.  
  
Eames frowned even harder. Shit. He was already more than an hour late. It was quiet enough that Eames knew everyone had to be on set. They had several different actors employed by DF of course, but lately most of the screen time had been with him and Arthur. Their website had a slightly different take on a typical pornography site. Instead of viewers paying per view various shots of gay porn, Dreamshare offered internet viewers a chance to pick their own scenarios. Sometimes they had live performances with special requests, and sometimes it ran like an auction site, with the winner getting to chose some of the main features of the film. It was Yusuf‘s job to handle the online side of things. Maybe Yusuf could help loan him a computer or something.  
  
Eames poked his head into Yusuf’s office, located near the reception area only to find it empty. _Bollocks_. Ariadne had _specifically_ said to go to Saito’s office. The email would have been a nice head’s up, but he knew he better go and find out what the fuck was going on.  
  
Saito’s office was located at the back of the sprawling floor plan. Dreamshare had two main studios that they used for filming. One was set like a bedroom with a huge king-sized bed. Mal had designed the back two walls as large, open French doorway so that the techs could easily move furniture in and out, depending on what the scene called for. The other room was set as a living room, with a large, black leather sofa. As Eames walked back towards the pool area, he could tell from the voices that the living room set was being used. The sound of Mal’s lightly accented voice came over the small audio enhancement microphone she wore. “ _Non_! You must be a little more forceful. We need to see him straining just enough against your hold on his wrists. Yes. Exactly. Very nice, Dom.” The light that signified that they were filming wasn’t on, so Eames poked his head inside to see if maybe he could borrow a phone from someone.  
  
What he saw froze him in his tracks. Eames stood there for at least thirty seconds before he remembered to move.  
  
Arthur’s lithe body was bent at what would be for anyone else, an unnatural angle. His knees were resting on one end of a coffee table, with his hands braced on the seat of the leather couch. He was facing Eames, with his head turned to look back over at his shoulder at Mal, exposing the long, graceful curve of his throat. Arthur’s wiry body seemed comfortable holding a pose that would have killed Eames’ knees while the production crew blocked the scene, setting it for the different lighting needed so that nothing would be in shadow for the cameras.  
  
A man that Eames didn’t know was half kneeling behind Arthur, fiddling with the rubber on his half-hard dick. He was built, blonde and squinting a little down at the curve of Arthur’s spine. Eames watched as the other man licked his lips, and couldn’t help the way his eyes narrowed. The man shifted slightly on the couch, drawing Mal’s attention. She blinked at seeing Eames, a small smile on her face.  
  
“Eames! What are you doing here so early?”  
  
Eames managed to school his face into something a little more suited for his director and smiled back at her. “Mal, my pet, I didn’t know that I was early. In fact, I thought that I was a bit late!”  
  
“Didn’t our Ariadne email you?” Mal’s generous mouth pulled down in a frown as she walked over to where Eames was standing, kissing him on both cheeks.  
  
“Phone’s dead.” Eames smiled. “She said that Saito was waiting for me?”  
  
“Yes. But not for a few minutes. Have you met Dom?” She grabbed his arm, turning so that she could introduce the man on the couch.  
  
“Mr. Eames. A pleasure to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work.”  
  
Eames tried not to notice the way Dom causally rested his hand on the small of Arthur’s back as he leaned forward, squinting slightly with his bright flash of smile as he held out his hand. Mal _tisked_ under her breath when her phone rang and stepped slightly away from them, talking low in French. Eames took Dom’s hand on autopilot, shaking twice.  
  
“Hey, Eames.”  
  
Eames nodded at Arthur, still a bit narked at himself for the purely possessive reaction. It threw him for a loop. He and Arthur had worked together for almost a year now. In all that time, Eames had seen Arthur fuck and be fucked by several different people. Eames didn’t like the way he reacted. He was pretty sure that the faintly proprietary air towards a coworker was frowned upon in the porn industry, and it was bugging him that he was feeling like this.  
  
“Arthur, darling. You’re looking precious as usual.” The ‘darling’ slipped out before Eames could stop himself. He quickly focused back on Dom, forcing a bright smile. “Pleasure is mine. You’re working with Arthur, here?” Between being late, finding out he’d been fucking _replaced_ , and the stress of meeting with the bloody boss Eames was definitely off of his game. He hoped his words hadn’t sound as false out loud as they did in his head. Eames nodded, ignoring Dom's puzzled look and Arthur's faint frown, and began walking away from the filming area.   
  
Dreamshare Films employed five different actors of all body types and sizes. While they did specialize in male gay film, they did occasionally have a need for a woman, depending on what was requested on the internet. Usually when that happened, they had Debbie in accounting fill in. Eames sighed and walked down the hallway towards the pool and Saito's domain.   
  
*****  
  
Eames had to blink before he realized that Saito had opened the door enough to allow just a peek into the inner sanctum. Eames had worked for Dreamshare for two years, and in all that time had only been in Saito’s office once. And that time he’d been so nervous that he hadn’t really been thinking of the decor. It had been at the beginning, when Arthur had first been hired. Eames had had some... staying power issues. The first and only meeting with Satio had been with him politely requiring whether or not Eames wanted to use a fluffer, or if he preferred to just use a prescription. Yusuf was somewhat of an under-the-table pharmacist, and apparently had offered when Eames couldn’t seem to keep his dick from coming whenever he caught a glimpse of Arthur smirking up at him.  
  
So it was perhaps understandable why Eames had less than pleasant associations of Saito’s office.  
  
Saito pulled open the door and stepped back in order to let Eames’ bulkier body inside. It was very dark in the room. Saito suffered from migraines enough that he preferred to keep his workspace fairly dim. It was also why he rarely ventured out into the brightly lit studio. Eames walked inside and sat himself on a rather uncomfortable-looking loveseat, trying not to feel as though he’d been invited into the Batcave. He tried to look around without gawking, tallying the amount of priceless art that was strewn around the place, casually lit with enough backlighting to show off the various pieces. Eames shifted, grimacing slightly when something sharp from his pocket poked him in the hip. Oh. Of course. One of the few poker chips left over from last night.  
  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t read the email,” Eames blurted in a rush.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Eames nodded.  
  
“Mal informed me of your technological woes. Please, don’t concern yourself.” Saito crossed to a small chair that sat catty-corner to the loveseat. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Eames.”  
  
A proposition? Eames straightened slightly, feeling much more confident. Saito didn’t act like someone who was ready to fire one of his stars. Or like someone who was replacing him with a younger model.  
  
“One of our more .. ardent... admirers has lucrative job offer that specifically requests both you and Arthur.”  
  
Eames smirked. That wasn’t new. He and Arthur had fans, after all.  
  
“Lucrative?”


	2. Chapter 2

  
Eames didn’t know how he got from the meeting back to where Arthur and Dom were shooting. They had switched positions. Dom was on his back holding his knees so he was spread open for the camera. Arthur’s face was tense as he thrust into Dom, who was moaning, his bigger body sliding across the leather with each movement of Arthur between his legs. Eames watched as Arthur’s gaze opened, focusing down on Dom, almost looking startled for a second. Dom began making noise. His moans sound fake; like... well... porn star moans.  
  
It was the realization that neither he nor Arthur sound like that that sent his stomach dropping to his knees. Eames was all at once so furious that he broke the cardinal rule of being on-set, stalking off and slamming the door behind him. Fuck it. He’d been given the day off and he damn well was going to go enjoy it.  
  
Eames was shoving his belongings into his messenger bag when he heard the door open behind him. He caught a glimpse of Arthur[  **in his ridiculous purple paisley robe** ](http://i1198.photobucket.com/albums/aa455/1lostone1/jglrobe.jpg)before he turned completely so that his back was to the door, frowning down at his desk as though deliberating whether or not to take the three paper clips that were left in the bottom of the drawer.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Eames couldn’t help the way his whole body tensed. He met Arthur’s gaze in the mirror.  
  
“Taking a break?”  
  
“Something like that.” Arthur’s wry grin made something tighten low in Eames’ stomach. He was furious that the simple twist of Arthur’s lips could make his cock twitch in his pants. “You blew through there like a hurricane, man. Mal’s pretty pissed.”  
  
“She’s French. She was born pissed.” That made Arthur huff a laugh. Eames watched as he leaned back against the door. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Arthur shifted his weight, closing his robe and belting it tightly. Eames felt the vein on his temple start to throb. “Saito just told me that you were quitting.”  
  
Eames watched in the mirror as Arthur fought to keep his face blank.  
  
“Nice that I don’t even rate an explanation.” His words were clipped, furious. Eames took a vicious pleasure in watching how Arthur flinched slightly before looking down to fiddle with the black silk tie of his robe.  
  
“Did he tell you why?” Arthur’s voice was subdued. Eames turned so that he faced Arthur. He ducked his head to put the strap of his bag back on his head, and dug for his sunglasses, shoving them onto his face so hard that the little nose guard bruised the side of his nose.  
  
“I didn’t bother to ask.”  
  
That wasn’t _entirely_ true. Eames had been too stunned to think to ask. “You know, it’s not that big of a deal. I get it. People get burned out in this industry all the time. But we’ve worked together for two bloody years, Arthur. I know that you don’t particularly care for me outside of work, but even common courtesy would give me a head’s up that you were outs.”  
  
Arthur flinched again, his chin coming up to look Eames straight in the eye. “I... did something unprofessional. I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Eames. You won’t have any trouble. Mal will cast someone else and it will all be business as usual.”  
  
Eames took a step forward, giving Arthur just enough space to move out of his way. His skin felt too stretched, like he could break apart any moment. Eames wasn’t normally one to get attached to things, to people, for just this very reason. “Well, thanks for everything, I guess, although I suppose I won’t be seeing you around.”  
  
“No. I suppose not. It was a ... pleasure working with you, Mr. Eames.”

* * *

  
  
The pounding on Eames’ door startled him out of his sleep. He jerked, wrinkling his nose at the feel of the line of drool that connected his mouth to his pillow, then moaned rather pitifully when the abrupt movement of his head set off what felt like three sets of fireworks behind his eyelids.  
  
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice croaky from disuse. Eames pressed the heels of his hands on his eyes, feeling utterly wretched. The pounding came again.  
  
_Bugger._ He would know that sound anywhere.  
  
“Alastair Montgomery Sterling Fotheringham _Eames_ you have exactly _one minute_ to open this door! C'est des _conneries_! It's been a _week_!”  
  
Eames winced. Mal’s voice tended to get higher-pitched every time she was so sodding angry that she forgot her English. At this rate his neighbors would be sitting there with a French-English dictionary, smirking at him the next time he went to the street to pick up his newspaper.  
  
“Abruti! tu petit ... _bite_! OPEN THIS DOOR!” There was a particularly loud thud, as though someone had driven her last-season Louboutins into the wooden door. Eames muttered under his breath, jerking on some sweats as he stumbled over a few pizza boxes to his door. His apartment wasn’t very big, and he’d not been especially tidy as of late.  
  
“Coming. Coming already.” He stumbled over a pair of trainers and caught himself with the doorknob, slamming his hip into it and cursing when he jerked open the door to see a flushed, furious Mal with one heel ready to pound into his forehead.  
  
“Âne! Moron! Where have you been? _Why_ have you not answered your phone?”  
  
“Oh fuck off, Mal. I’m not really in the mood.”  
  
Eames turned, ignoring the way she sucked in breath through her pursed lips. He limped over to his couch, rubbing absently at his hip, flopping down and putting his musty smelling pillow over his head.  
  
He heard her uneven gait go to his kitchen, her disgusted click of her tongue as she looked at the mess of takeaway containers and empty beer bottles. “You silly, silly man. What have you done to yourself?”  
  
Eames just moaned rather pathetically, trying to smother himself out of his hangover. He heard her limping step as she walked back towards the couch. Eames could picture her small frame, hands over her hips as she stared down at him, shoe clutched in her hand. Maybe he could talk her into a pity shag. Or rubbing his forehead. She was brilliant at that.  
  
“Eames. Move the pillow, _chère_.”  
  
Eames summoned up his most wretched face, and slowly moved the pillow down. He didn’t have the time to cringe before she threw the bucket full of half-melted ice water he’d been using as a beer bath.  
  
He was pretty sure they heard his screech in West Hollywood.  
  
“What the sodding _fuck_ , Mal?!”  
  
“What? I thought you were sick! Dead! Instead, I find you, what is this? Wallowing? You are pathétique!  
  
“Are you barking?” Eames jumped up, stripping off his sweats and throwing them in the general direction of his room. “You just dumped ice water on me!! It’s none of your business.” He stomped over and found a pair of basketball shorts, sliding them up over his legs with a few brief tugs. “And I’m not wallowing. I just took my week vacation. People do that, you know.”  
  
She pointed her shoe at him as he jerked a towel off of the back of a dining room chair and swiped it at the leather cushions. He flopped down on his couch, glaring balefully up at her. Mal rolled her eyes and handed him two aspirin and a bottle of water. He took them, frowning.  
  
“Eames.”  
  
Sadly, they had known each other for so long that Mal wasn’t even fazed by his temper tantrum. It only took her saying his name and he was ready to tell her everything. Instead, he drank the water, grimacing at the disgusting taste of his mouth.  
  
“You really are an idiot. Did you know that we had to have Dom fill in for you? And why did you never answer your phone? I really did have you dead, darling.” He felt the couch dip as she sat down, felt her somewhat knobby knees as she curled up next to him.  
  
Eames sighed, tossing back his head so that he could take the aspirin. He felt even more ridiculous now that Mal was here to call him on his bullshit.  
  
“Saito told me that he told you the news. That Arthur was leaving us.”  
  
“Yeah. He said.”  
  
“Did he tell you why?” Mal cocked her head, staring at him in that unnerving way she had, with her big, brown eyes boring holes into whatever excuse Eames could come up with.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Mal’s eyebrows raised. “He did? And is that why you are all...” Mal waved her hands around. “Mopey? I would think that you would be pleased.”  
  
Eames opened one eye. “Why would I be pleased that Arthur was being unprofessional?”  
  
Mal’s face went through a number of expressions before she settled on one that made Eames feel distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
Eames looked away, down at the floor.  
  
“Eames. There is an excellent reason that you and Arthur have worked together almost exclusively. I mean, think about it. How often does that happen?”  
  
Eames took another sip of water, hoping that the aspirin would kick in before the lecture ended. He had a feeling he would need it. Nothing was worse than having someone call you on being an arse, except knowing that you’d been an arse and deserved it. If Mal hadn’t been such a good friend, he could have very easily lost his job for pulling this little stunt.  
  
She flicked him on the forehead.  
  
“I asked you a question, chère.”  
  
“Not often. Why did you do that?”  
  
“Let’s just say....I know chemistry when I see it. You know how the two of you are on-camera. Shame that off-camera you have the chemistry of a wet noodle, but ends must. Both _Cumception_ and _Pasiv-Aggressive_ made all of us quite a lot of money, dear one. You know this. Now. Given all of this, do you think that I would let Arthur go easily?”  
  
“No...” That was true. Mal would have fought like a prizefighter to keep Arthur’s beautiful arse working with her studio. Sometimes, Eames thought that Mal loved Arthur as much as Mal loved him.  
  
“Non. Of course not. So you agree that Arthur’s reason must be a very good one?”  
  
Eames looked up at her, trying to ignore the way his stomach was cramping with sudden nerves. “He’s... He’s okay, yeah?”  
  
Mal’s face softened. “Yes. He’s fine. It was a personal reason, Eames.”  
  
Eames saw Arthur’s hurt face again, heard the frustration in his voice. _Don’t you ever get... tired of all of this?”_ Shit. “Darling, forgive me if I sound like an utter shite for saying this, but does his reason have ... to do with me?”  
  
Mal just continued to stare at him, nodding once. “You know,” she said conversationally, like they were having a chat over lunch, “Arthur felt so terrible about leaving you in the lurch that he agreed to do Saito’s little extra-curricular project.”  
  
“One last fuck for the road?” The bitterness in his voice surprised even him. He stretched a little on the couch, drinking the rest of the bottle of water.  
  
“Ohh! _Va te faire enculer_! How can you be such a ..a...child!?” Mal jumped up, gesturing again with her hands as she yelled, still holding the shoe, utterly furious and completely beautiful in her anger. Her eyes glittered as she tossed her dark, wavy hair over her shoulder. “I don’t even know why I bother. Either charge your damn phone or find a new job. You will be at the studio tomorrow by eight am, Eames.” Mal started to point at him and with a twist of her wrist as she gestured with her hand, the heel of her purple Louboutin flew across the room and imbedded itself into the leather cushion, so close to Eames’ balls that he could feel the cool puff of air as the heel arrowed through the worn couch material in the vee between his sprawled legs.  
  
“Jesus fucking _CHRIST_ , woman!” Eames jumped back so quickly that he overbalanced, sending hm arse over tits onto his floor. The water bottle flew out of his hand with a clatter. He cupped his dick, horrified, checking to make sure it was still all the way there. Talk about damaging the merchandise! He heard her suck air through her teeth again, and from his position had a lovely peep up her skirt when she bent over to rip her heel out of his leather couch, stepping gracefully into it with a quick, jerky movement.  
  
“Eight-o’clock, Eames. Do not be late.” Mal was definitely one of a kind. Eames didn’t know many women who could be murderous, loving, and absolutely ruthless, yet still come off as utterly charming when she wanted something. Eames could only gape at her as she walked calmly out of his apartment, closing the door with a soft click, still protectively cupping his dick.  
  
If he whimpered, no one was there to hear it.

* * *

  
Eames’ phone battery was so dead that he had to power it off and allow it to charge a few minutes before he could read his texts. Robert still had his charger, so he had to dig through his junk drawer until he found his extra cord. He had missed twelve texts from Mal, each one more progressively angry, one from an old friend of his from school, and five from Arthur. Eames texted back before he could change his mind:

**Eames. Give me a call when you have a moment (12:11 pm)**

**Eames?  (12:22 pm)**

**Look. I feel terrible for quitting, but I didn't have a choice. (3:01 pm)**

**I wanted to let you know that I'll do Sato's project.**

**Mal said you're ill & will be back Mon. Ttyl! (8:12 am)**

 

**  
**

**SHIT!! Sorry, Mate**

**Phone still off. Cya Mon.**

**Looking fwd 2 last hurrah xoxoxo.** (1:22 pm)

  
Eames set down his phone with a small click. He sighed, then gagged a little when he smelled himself. His house was bad enough, but what he had done to his own body while feeling sorry for himself was simply ridiculous.  
  
It took him awhile to clean the alcohol out of his body. Eames went for a run, pushing himself. The first mile wasn’t too pleasant, but he grimaced through the pain, knowing that he was sweating the week of toxins out of his body. Mal was right to call him pathetic. He’d been doing exactly what she said; wallowing. So Arthur was quitting? So what? It wasn’t like it was going to affect _him_ , really. Dreamshare was still going to benefit from him using his gorgeous cock, after all. Sure it was sad that Arthur wasn’t going to be with him, but it wasn’t like it would matter. There was always someone willing to work with him.  
  
Eames worked hard to keep his body looking as perfect as it did. He was sure to eat right, he didn’t normally drink, and he both ran and lifted weights. Eames was very aware that people liked looking at him, and he was enough of an exhibitionist that he enjoyed it right back. Why shouldn’t they? Mal once told him that he looked like a cross between a MMA fighter and the boy next door... with a really thick cock.  
  
Eames stopped for a second at a street light, jogging in place. The next stretch would hurt a bit, but Eames knew he deserved it. He pushed himself even more, running uphill, feeling his calves burn. Both running and working out gave him an outlet to get his head straight. Clearly it was necessary, given how much of an utter arse he’d been. Until now, Eames had been rather careful not to examine his reasons for taking an unscheduled week off. It wasn’t too hard to push that to the back of his mind.  
  
He made it back to his house, wrinkling his nose at the sour stench of stale beer and old sweat that hit him when he walked in the door. God, he really was revolting.  
  
Eames made his way into the kitchen and gulped down what appeared to be his last bottle of water. He turned, chucking the empty bottle in the recycle bin. Next, he called his housekeeper, warning her of possibly needing a hazmat suit and promising her a huge bonus, then went to take a shower. As he walked to his bathroom, his gaze fell on the hole in his couch and despite everything found himself smirking. Mal. Bloody insane. She was a complete bitch when she got something in her head, but god how he loved her for it.  
  
As the hot water filled up his shower with steam Eames began to relax, enjoying the sensation. Tomorrow at eight he’d see Arthur again. Eames couldn’t help the grin that stretched his chapped lips.  
  
Tomorrow.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
“Hello, Darling. Miss me?”  
  
Arthur looked up from his iphone. His grin was so bright that Eames felt it in his gut. Bloody hangover. It was still making his stomach jump around.  
  
“Mr. Eames.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”  
  
“Glad to see you back slumming with us porn stars, pet.” Eames crossed the small room to sit next to Arthur, ignoring the way Arthur’s smile slipped away. The smaller man straightened his shoulders, continuing to stare down at his phone.  
  
“Eames! Arthur! I hate to direct and run, but I am needed on set. Arthur, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to work with Eames on this. You’ll see what I mean when you read the particulars. Saito wanted me to give you these. Standard contract, really. The only difference is that the bulk of the money will be split three ways, instead of the normal studio breakdown of funds. You both will receive a large sum, and the third goes to Dreamshare, naturally.”  
  
“Naturally.”  
  
Mal grinned at Eames’ tone. “Feel free to use any of our equipment. Arthur, dear. I’m giving over control of this to you. It will be good practice, non?”  
  
“Thanks, Mal. I think we can probably iron out the details and have it done tonight.”  
  
They heard a rather panicked Yusuf hollering down the hallway for Mal to _hurry the fuck up, damnit!_  
  
“Merde.” Mal made a face, bounding forward to quickly kiss both of their cheeks. “I must go. Have fun, my darlings.” With a turn of her bootheel, she disappeared with a muffled click of the door closing. There were a few minutes of silence before Arthur put his phone down, pulling the small stack of paper towards the both of them.  
  
“Well, it seems pretty straightforward.” Arthur flipped open the cover and started reading.  
  
Eames, not to be undone, grabbed one of the other plastic-bound scripts. “Oh. That’s interesting. There’s not so much of a script.”  
  
“The setting though, that’s pretty laid out for us.”  
  
It was quiet as they both read over the particulars of what the internet client wanted. Dreamshare had done a version of this type of request on a much smaller scale. Mal, and by a large extension Saito, would do sort of a ‘chose your own adventure’ type of internet poll, where their paid subscribers could pay to vote on what the actors would do. It was usually very small things, but giving them that element of control had been very popular- despite the fact that Mal usually insisted that they just shoot every possible choice anyway.  
  
“Okay, so they specifically said that they want this shot in one of our bedrooms. Yellow sheets. That’s... that’s pretty odd. Bit creepy, actually. All it would take is an accidental close-up on a magazine, and my address is out there.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “You can use mine. There’s nothing even remotely interesting in there. I just moved and haven’t really unpacked yet. Just a bed, and a bedside table, and my lamp. I’m sure that Mal has sheets in every conceivable color known to man. I don’t imagine yellow will be all that difficult.”  
  
Eames felt his heart leap at the idea of being invited into Arthur’s house, but his his voice was calm when he shrugged. “That’s sorted, then.” He _was_ an actor, after all. They both flipped the page to all of the ‘suggestions’ and began reading.  
  
“Holy shit!” Arthur stared down at the sheet, nonplussed.  
  
“Fuck _me_ ,” Eames breathed, knowing his eyebrows had lifted so high that he was in danger of spraining one.  
  
“Uh. Looks like I will be.”  
  
For some inexplicable reason, Eames found his face heating, his blush staining his cheekbones. Arthur’s brown eyes met his own for just a second, and Eames was floored by the heat he found there. He cleared his throat, jerking his gaze away, wishing that he hadn’t worn trousers that were quite so snug.  
  
“That’s not a problem, is it?” Arthur’s voice had lowered just slightly enough that Eames felt that tug again, deep in his gut.  
  
Eames’ phone rang. He had never been so sodding grateful for an interruption in his life. Talking to his mum, however, while planning how he was going to be fucked was a tad out of his squick zone, so he ignored the call.  
  
“Was that God Save the Queen?”  
  
“It was my mum.”  
  
Arthur snorted a laugh. The whole exchange took only seconds, but it was enough for Eames to get his ridiculous blush under control. He quickly changed the subject. “So, it looks like we switch off You catch, then I catch, then…”  
  
“We both catch?” It was true. Eames wasn’t sure if Mal had a double-headed vibrator in props or not, but his cock was definitely interested in the idea. From the way Arthur shifted in his seat, it appeared that Eames wasn’t the only one.  
  
“I think we’ll open up with  **[you, spread out on the bed](https://68.media.tumblr.com/b6c1e76f1a46cdcb39a65435ff1cf9d9/tumblr_or5ih1fIid1qd09cko1_500.jpg)**. You’re naked, and either just fucked out... no. Sleepy. You’re asleep, dead to the world.”  
  
“Okay so they want this to be more like two boyfriends, making a naughty film for themselves.”  
  
“Right No lights, no music, no close-up camera angles. Just webcams.” Arthur thought for a minute. “We could have two cameras, one filming the whole bed, and one blocked out for the end of it, where... oh, wait. I just thought of something. My bed is pushed up against a room-length mirror. So there would be the reflection as well. We can make that part of the scene.”  
  
“That means the computer might be in the shots.”  
  
“I don’t really think they care, Mr. Eames. We’ll have to make sure we go by the props department. Do you want to go over all the suggestions? Or do you just want to ad-lib it?”  
  
Eames shrugged. “I’m not too fussed, to be honest. You can use whatever you want on me.” His smirk was positively filthy. “I’ll certainly be using whatever I wish on you. So...both, I think. We can have the toys by the bed. Then whatever we want to use, we can just go with it.”  
  
“Okay. I think that will work. I’ll be sure to tell Mal what we’re signing out.” Arthur made a quick note in the margin, the sound of his pencil loud in the quiet room, pointedly ignoring Eames’ comment.  
  
Eames pouted a little. “Okay so, no script, no real directions other than we’re to make it clear that they both love each other. It’s not so much a series of fucks, as much as it’s a couple being a bit kinky together.”  
  
“Exactly.” For a second, Arthur sounded pissed off.  
  
Eames looked up at him, surprised. “Is something the matter, pet? Shouldn’t be all that hard. Some caresses, a few kisses, maybe some Warm Vanilla Sugar scented candles*…”  
  
“No It’s just… Kind of ironic. Nevermind. It’s…” He huffed out a breath. “No biggie.” Arthur picked up a pencil and started making some more small notes in the margin.  
  
Eames tilted back in his chair, watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye. He watched the strength in Arthur’s long fingers, watched the way his hair slipped a little from its gel, brushing over one dark eyebrow and swallowed, hard. “I’m trying to think if we’ve ever kissed before.”  
  
The pencil snapped in Arthur’s fingers. “No. No, we haven’t. Not really.”  
  
True. Eames’ mouth had kissed every inch of Arthur’s body except his lips. “That’s odd. Surely we have.” If their past scripts called for their mouths together, it was more of them panting into each other’s mouths, not a proper kiss. Kissing was much too personal. Most of the actors tended to refer it it as ‘pulling a _Pretty Woman_.’ Kissing was what you did with someone you wanted. Not someone you worked with.  
  
Unless it was in the script, of course.  
  
“Not really,” Arthur repeated, staring down at the script notes as though he was trying to memorize them.  
  
“’Course it is.” Eames puckered his lips, made a few kissy noises. “Give us a kiss, darling.”  
  
Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. He started to stand up. The legs of Eames’ chair clattered down onto the tile with a sharp _thwack_ of sound. His hand reached out before his conscious brain was quite aware of what he was going to do, closing around Arthur’s thin wrist with a tight grip, pulling him off balance just enough that Eames could reach up with his other hand to cup the back of Arthur’s neck. When their lips touched, Eames’ heart was pounding so loudly that he almost didn’t hear the small sound Arthur made.  
  
Arthur didn’t let him control the kiss for long, chasing Eames’ lips with his tongue; licking into Eames’ mouth with a muffled groan. Arthur kissed him like he was starving and hadn’t been allowed to eat for hours. Eames felt Arthur’s cool hands cupping his cheeks as Arthur leaned right into him, balancing himself against Eames more solid, muscular body.  
  
There was a crash from the hallway and the sound of Mal’s furious shrieking, clearly discernible through the closed conference room door.  
  
Eames wasn’t sure who pulled away first, but he was bloody positive of one thought that echoed in his head.  
  
He was so very, very fucked.

* * *

  
  
Apparently, the theme to Eames’ private freak-out was Journey’s _Don’t Stop Believin’_. Eames stared out the passenger seat window as though he’d be quizzed on the details later. He and Arthur were both more than willing to use the radio as an excuse not to talk. The one time that Eames had looked over at Arthur, the younger man had a death-grip on the steering wheel, his jaw so clenched that Eames was faintly surprised that he couldn’t hear Arthur’s dental work grinding into dust.  
  
Oh sure. He’d made a joke about their kiss being overdue. Arthur had laughed where he was supposed to, and they’d finished up the small amount of business they’d had before Arthur had gone to the props department for whatever toys he thought they’d need. Eames had cheerfully rooted through Mal’s purse, stealing her smokes and lighter without a qualm, then practically speed-walked out to the smoking area, merrily ignoring the fact that he hadn’t had a cigarette in three years. It had taken him three tries to light the sodding thing. Robert had given him a weird look at the way his hands were shaking. No worries. Perfectly fine.  
  
Only it wasn’t. It was like someone had given him a swift kick to the arse. A long-overdue slap to the face.  
  
Talk about being unprofessional.  
  
Eames had no illusions about the fact that he was a porn star. He fucked for people on camera. He fucked for people to get off to, for them to imitate or wank or salivate over. To be jealous of. He got paid extremely well because he was able to be whatever the script called for. He privately doubted that he’d win any awards from the Academy for his acting ability, but for his part he made his characters as believable as he could, despite the ridiculousness of his job.  
  
Saito had pulled him aside during his first shoot and had given him a small bit of advice that Eames had never forgotten. _”Don’t Romanticize what you do.”_  
  
Ironically, Eames had said the same thing to Arthur when he had started. It was right after Arthur and he had fucked for the first time on camera, Arthur’s enthusiasm making it difficult for Eames to control himself. He’d had to stop twice, something that he’d not had to do in years. Thinking to be a mentor, Eames had pulled Arthur aside after, with both of them still stinking from sweat and spunk and slick.  
  
”Don’t romanticize what you do, kid. It’ll just be harder for you later.” Arthur had turned a furious shade of red, and had stammered something that Eames had never quite caught. But it was good advice. They weren’t just fucking- they were fucking for people. For a camera, to put on a show. Falling for your co-workers was just bad business.  
  
And until today, Eames never had.  
  
Eames didn’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter. He hadn’t really seen the need to do so. He was not one to attach himself to people. Other than Mal, and a few mates from school, Eames kept himself to himself. Oh he’d tried. Once. He had tried to laugh off what he did for a living, assuming that if he didn’t treat it as all that of a big deal, the boyfriend would either.  
  
Yeah, that hadn’t gone well.  
  
But now? Eames being jealous of Dom touching Arthur? Of Eames being so ... hurt when Arthur hadn’t told him that he planned to quit? Spending an _entire bloody week_ feeling sorry for himself?  
  
There was no way that this could end well.  
  
So Eames stared out the window, past the famous landmarks, making himself sick thinking of every single way he’d fucked himself over before he’d even had a chance. If Arthur wouldn’t go out for coffee with him, then it was a fairly certain bet that he’d have no interest in--  
  
“We’re here.”  
  
Eames jumped in his seat. He hadn’t even realized that they’d stopped.  
  
“Nice.”  
  
It was. Arthur’s neighborhood was an older one, set in the hills with enough space between houses to afford quite a bit of privacy. Arthur’s home wasn’t gated, but the driveway was fairly long, curling up to the house.  
  
“Thank you.” Arthur’s voice was perfectly pitched for someone who had had his tongue down Eames’ throat twenty minutes ago.  
  
Obviously their kiss wasn’t nearly as big of a deal to Arthur as it was to Eames. He was being a complete prat over this. Mentally, Eames gave himself a few slaps across the face.  
  
Arthur opened the garage, pulling inside and turning off his vehicle. Arthur crossed to the boot and bent to get out their supplies. Eames grabbed the two computers, leaving the duffle bag for Arthur. Eames followed his lead, following him into his house.  
  
“Would you like something to drink?”  
  
“No, best not. I’ll set up the cameras if you want.”  
  
“That’s good. I want to take a shower anyway. Bedroom’s to the left. Use anything you need, okay? I’ll put this bag in there, just toss the stuff in the drawer so it looks a little less set up. The sheets they wanted are here, too.”  
  
“Brilliant.” Eames forced a smile and turned towards the hallway. It didn’t take him long to set up the equipment. They had ended up using three cameras. One set to give a closeup of the left side of the bed (which would include the reflected images in the mirror), one at the foot of the bed, and one situated on the whole bed. Eames raised an eyebrow at the number of toys Arthur packed, dumping them all in the drawer as requested, and making the bed with the sheets.  
  
Eames began recording, then stripped down completely, sliding into Arthur’s bed with a small shiver as he smelled Arthur’s scent on the pillows. He kicked off the duvet and flopped down onto his stomach. He’d clamped a trucker hat down onto his head to hide his expression, stretching out on the bed like Arthur had said: pretending to be completely blissed out.  
  
Eames made sure to tilt his arse up slightly spreading his legs just enough that Arthur would get an eyeful when he finally came in, resisting the urge to wink at the camera. His fingers pressed against the mirror as he waited for Arthur to finish his shower, telling himself over and over that he could sodding well do this, damnit. It was just sex.  
  
Just sex with _Arthur._  
  
He’d have time to properly freak out later. Right now, he was determined to make this amazing.


	4. Chapter 4

Eames heard a Arthur’s footstep and tensed for just a moment, before letting out what he thought was a fairly convincing snore. There was a count of four heartbeats before he heard Arthur’s soft inhalation of breath. Eames didn’t know if the cameras would pick it up, but it sure as fuck did things for him.  
  
“Look at you....”  
  
Eames was glad for the trucker hat. His eyes popped open in surprise at Arthur’s low, gravelly tone, then quickly squeezed shut. Asleep. he was supposed to be asleep.  
  
He heard Arthur walk closer to the bed, heard his, “God Eames, you’re so fucking hot.” Eames wasn’t sure if he _breathed_. They hadn’t really discussed whose names to use, and the fact that Arthur was saying his at all made Eames’ stomach clench. It made everything seem more ... real. He shifted slightly, as though starting to wake up when the bed dipped, settling under Arthur’s weight.  
  
He felt Arthur’s warm hand, slightly damp from his shower as he coasted it down Eames’ spine, moving so that he could rest his pointed chin on Eames’ tailbone. He felt the smallest of kisses on the dimples on his arse, and squeezed his eyes shut. The kiss was so tender, sweet, like a lover would give.  
  
He almost stopped everything right there. It seemed cruel to have Arthur’s tenderness, especially after Eames’ realization in the car. Fuck. _Fuck_ , could he really do this? Yeah. Of course he could. The job hadn’t changed for Arthur. Eames would not let it change for him. He could play this.  
  
He _could_ , damnit.  
  
Eames shifted, stretching. “Good morning, love.”  
  
Eames watched Arthur’s reflection in the mirror through half-slitted eyes. Arthur was still wet from his shower, beads of water sliding down his body. He had wrapped a bright red towel around his thin frame, but it looked as though the knot was losing its struggle to remain tied. Eames watched as he climbed onto the bed. Arthur’s hair was pushed back out of his face, and he lay, curled slightly over to the left of Eames’ legs, still resting his cheek against the dip of the very base of Eames’ spine. Arthur’s smile was one he’d never seen before: cheeky and sleepy and happy all at once.  
  
“Mornin’ Did you actually fall asleep in that hat?”  
  
Eames licked his lips and took it off, tossing it back towards Arthur, who made a face, picking it up with two fingers as though he couldn’t bear to touch it. “You look like you’re doing a centerfold for gay truckers.”  
  
Eames laughed before he could help himself, crossing his arms and pillowing his head on them, still lazily watching Arthur in the mirror. He was careful not to look directly at any of the three cameras. Arthur wrinkled his nose in the most adorable way and tossed the hat onto the floor, bending to kiss at the globe of Eames’ arse. Eames’ breath caught at the way Arthur rubbed his cheek against him again, the slight bit of stubble a stark contrast to the smoothness of Arthur’s hands.  
  
“I missed you. I could hardly wait to get home. If I had known that you’d be naked and waiting on me, I would have hurried up even more.” Arthur turned his head, brushing his lips over the space between Eames’ arsecheeks, and Eames couldn’t help the involuntary shiver, not entirely sure if it was from the kiss or from how much he wished that Arthur wasn’t acting, pulled into the fantasy of Arthur hurrying home to him.  
  
Eames didn’t know which of them was more surprised when Eames spread his legs just the slightest bit more. “Yeah?” He felt Arthur’s chin, his stubble rubbing against his skin, the slight drip of a stray droplet of water as it rolled off of Arthur’s ear and onto Eames’ thigh. Eames could feel the heat of Arthur’s breath and shifted again, tilting his arse up just the slightest bit. Arthur met his eyes once in the mirror, a flash of a question in his dark gaze, silently asking Eames if he was really okay with this. Eames didn’t let people fuck him. His reasons were his own, and Mal had never pushed, but he didn’t even do ass play on camera. As the receiver, anyway. Whenever anyone questioned him, he would just grin and joke about having trust issues.  
  
“Arthur, petal, if you want me to beg to have you rim my arse, I will do it.”  
  
Eames wiggled a little as his cock began to harden, the once-cool sheets warming from the sensation of his body.  
  
Arthur’s laugh, the cool puff of air against his balls made Eames jump a little. “Mmmm, I’m just surprised is all. You don’t usually let me do this. The last time ... I think it was our anniversary.”  
  
“Well, you know. The gift that keeps on-- _ohh_..!”  
  
Eames didn’t even have to embellish his sudden shout. Arthur didn’t waste any time, spreading him open and licking him from tailbone down to his perineum with one wet push of his tongue. Eames froze as he did it again, unable to control the way his skin broke out in gooseflesh. He caught a glimpse of his own face in the mirror and turned his neck so that he could hide the utter shock on his face, not wanting the cameras to see how utterly wrecked he was by one simple movement.  
  
Arthur pulled away, gasping for breath. “Fuck, Eames you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to taste you. C’mon... I can right? You’ll let me? You want me to?” Arthur dove back down, just licking up and down, until Eames was dripping wet. His cock jumped, thickening to full hardness, as Eames nodded, moaning as much as from the desperation in Arthur’s voice as from the words themselves.  
  
“Eames?”  
  
Realizing that Arthur couldn’t hear his head nod, Eames rocked up, shifting a little so he was on his knees and elbows, pushing his arse towards Arthur’s mouth in answer. Eames felt the bed dip again as Arthur arranged himself behind him, and couldn’t help the strangled, “Fuck, _Fuck_ , Arthur, your fucking _mouth_!” that fell from his throat.  
  
“I want to suck on you, I wanna fill you with so much come that it’s dribbling out of your ass for fucking _hours_ , Eames.” Arthur rubbed the bristles of his chin against Eames, hungry, winking hole and used his spread hand to push Eames further down onto the bed so that his ass was tilted up perfectly for Arthur’s mouth.  
  
He felt Arthur dribble some more slick between his arsecheeks, and shivered when Arthur started to finger just the rim of his hole, pushing the tiniest bit of lube into him with each pass of the tip of his finger. Eames wasn’t acting when he pushed back, rocking closer to Arthur’s finger. “Quit teasing me, you sodding little bastard,” Eames hissed, all at once furious at how easily Arthur was making him fall apart. It was laughable.  
  
Only Arthur wasn’t laughing. Eames could feel Arthur’s wet tongue spearing into him with the slightest dip of his finger, opening him up further with each careful flick of his tongue. He heard himself, panting and cursing as he shoved his face into the pillow, only to pull back so that he could suck in a breath, knowing his face was sweaty and flushed, that he had to look like he was completely gagging for it.  
  
Well, not to put too fine a point upon it, he was.  
  
Eames moaned, finding it difficult to bloody focus on _anything_ but what he was feeling; the shivers and sparks that lit up his spine seemed to go directly to his dick. He finally jerked away from Arthur’s mouth with a groan, turning on his knees, wincing a little when the sheets balled up uncomfortably as he pulled them from the bed.  
  
Arthur grinned up at him his face still shiny from the slick and the saliva that dripped down his chin. Eames couldn’t believe how much he was turned on by Arthur’s ministrations. Was it because the two of them were so completely depraved? It almost seemed as though they were ignoring the cameras completely, playing at being real lovers. Or was Arthur just that excellent of an actor?  
  
Whatever. Eames breathed hard. He felt like he was gonna pop like a goddamn amateur if he didn’t take a second to get his shit together. Eames shivered as the cool mirror touched his hot and sweaty back, ignoring the way his cock bobbed impatiently as he moved. He watched as Arthur bent over on the bed, stretching out slightly to lick at just the tip of his wet and leaking cock. Eames jerked away with a moan, his hands coming up to cup Arthur’s shoulders. He heard his head hit the glass with a muffled _thunk_ as he pulled away, breathing heavily.  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Eames watched as Arthur’s dark eyes went even darker at the gravelly sound of his voice. Eames bent, jerking Arthur up the line of his body with a quick tug that sent the smaller man off-balance. Eames moved his hands down Arthur’s sweatslick back, using his fingernails on just this side of too much to pull scrape over each separate bump of Arthur’s spine, then even more slowly as he moved back up. He jerked Arthur’s head back by his hair and kissed him, feeding at his mouth like they had done in the studio.  
  
Eames had always thought that it would be kind of disgusting, considering that Arthur’s talented tongue had been eating him out a few minutes ago. He was shocked to find that he _wanted_ that; he loved the extremely naughty, completely filthy feeling of licking at Arthur’s mouth, his own lips sliding over Arthur’s from the slipperiness of the slick they’d used. From the sound of Arthur’s half-breathless moans, he didn’t mind either.  
  
Eames shifted, one hand on the back of Arthur’s neck, the other on the base of Arthur’s spine. Arthur gasped when Eames arranged him so that he was straddling Eames thicker leg. Arthur brushed his own hardness against the tight muscles of Eames’ stomach, still making the half-desperate sounds in the back of his throat, like it was killing him not to get closer.  
  
Eames gripped Arthur’s tight arse, gasping himself when he felt the thickness of the protruding end of the toy. He let go of Arthur in surprise, then allowed both hands to drift back down, pulling Arthur’s cheeks apart glancing to the left to use the mirror to see what Arthur had done to himself. “Look at you, you kinky little _bugger_.” Eames lightly touched the end of the plug, slowly tracing his finger around the rim of the stretched hole that held it in place. Arthur cried out, sucking in breath like he’d been punched, resting his sweaty forehead against Eames’ shoulder. Eames pushed hard on the black toy with his first and middle fingers, smirking when Arthur bit at his shoulder to stifle his moan. “None of that now, darling. When did you do this? Was it in your shower?” Eames slowly pulled the plug out, so slowly that Arthur jerked with each slow, teasing movement.  
  
“Y—ye-- _ngh,_ ye-ssss.” Arthur’s hiss made Eames smile wickedly.  
  
“And?” Eames pushed it back in, watching Arthur’s eyes. He pressed his leg up against Arthur’s balls, feeling the slick slide of Arthur’s dick against him.  
  
“And--- god, Eames, I didn’t… I...!” Arthur’s mouth fell open, his eyes fluttering shut as Eames began to fuck him with the plug, moving it in tiny circles as he shoved it through that tight ring of muscle, feeling his own arse clench in sympathy.  
  
“You didn’t…. come on, Arthur. A little specificity, please. You didn’t, _what_?”  
  
Arthur’s glare made Eames grin. Eames reached down and gripped Eames’ cock, sliding over his thick shaft with his tightened fist, jerking him, slightly faster than what Eames was doing with the toy, as though to encourage him. “I didn’t want… to wait. For your… fuck. _Fuck_ , Eames, I couldn’t wait for your … _ahhh!_ ” Arthur screamed when Eames held the plug, pressing it into Arthur’s prostate. Arthur’s whole body vibrated like a harpstring, but Eames was holding him too tightly for him to break away.  
  
“Yeah? Come on, Arthur. Come on now… I’ve got you, darling…” It was as though Arthur couldn’t help himself. Eames was shocked to realize how greedy he was for everything that Arthur had to give him. Eames pulled out the plug with a wet _squelch_ , shoving in three fingers and twisting them, alternating his gaze between Arthur’s wrecked, shocked face and Arthur’s dick as it jerked, thick jets of come splashing on Eames’ chest, over Arthur’s tightened fingers on his cock, and on his chin.  
  
Eames gave Arthur a moment to recover, bending a little so that he could slowly slide the plug back in. Arthur shivered, kissing at Eames’ neck with a little whine of sound.  
  
“Shh. I know you’re sensitive. Does it hurt?”  
  
Arthur shook his head, and Eames had to swallow hard at the way Arthur was still hiding his face, He couldn’t say why he did it, but he kissed Arthur’s forehead, his eyelids, even the tip of his nose, until Arthur pushed him away, with a tetchy little frown on his face. Eames tapped the plug again with his first two fingers and smirked at Arthur’s full body shiver.  
  
Clearly remembering the cameras, Arthur kissed him lazily, moving down over Eames’ full lips, over his jawline and down his chest. It belatedly occurred to Eames that this was one of the script suggestions, and he tried to rack his brain to remember what the fuck he was supposed to say. It was a lot harder than he’d ever dreamed it would be as Arthur’s mouth licked and sucked at him, lazily lapping up his own come and the sweat from their bodies.  
  
“You should get comfortable. I have something else I want to try.”  
  
Oh, balls. That was it. The cockring.  
  
“I _am_ comfortable, darling, but if you keep that up, I’m afraid that tonight’s activities will be over a lot sooner than you think.”  
  
“Oh?” Arthur grinned down at him, licking his shiny lips. “I have something to help with that.”  
  
Eames forced himself to look mildly curious, when he really wanted to curse at Arthur to hurry right the fuck up. The cockring was one that Eames had worn before of course. Viewers liked it when it was put onto a hard cock, so they got the kind that could be used while hard or soft, easily adjusted to a particular tightness by the snaps. Arthur was a complete tease, trailing the thick leather strap down the shaft of Eames’ dick, fastening it around the base of his balls, then twisting it around his cock with a muffled little snap. Eames bit his lip. Arthur had a talent for head that was damn near divine. This whole thing was way too much like sex, and not enough like work. It was too fucking easy to lose himself in this. Way too easy.  
  
Eames’ cock wasn’t so long that his partners generally had a problem going down on him, but it was thick enough that they had to be careful, usually going slowly enough so that they got used to the girth and feel of Eames in their mouth. Arthur moved for a moment, grabbing a couple of pillows so that Eames could easily watch their reflections in the mirror. Eames shifted, holding himself up on his elbows, putting one leg over Arthur’s rather bony shoulder. The other leg he stretched out so that the camera had quite the view of Arthur as he grinned down at him. He looked absolutely wicked, flushed and sweaty and eager to begin, and all at once Eames was rather grateful for the cockring, otherwise he’d probably go off on the first feel of Arthur’s mouth tightening around him.  
  
“I can’t believe you made me come already.” Arthur was perfectly poised as he spoke. His tone of voice wouldn’t be out of place at a dinner table, asking for the salt.  
  
“Hmm.” Eames forced himself to look up at the ceiling, unresponsive, repeating ‘Don’t come. Don’t bloody come,’ over and over and over to himself.  
  
“Oh hell no, Mr. Eames. Eyes, down, please.”  
  
Eames felt each little puff of cool air on his cock as Arthur spoke and ground his molars together, cursing to himself. He huffed out two harsh breaths, then visually steeled himself, looking down at Arthur with something very like nervousness.  
  
Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like Arthur hadn’t gone down on him before. The flash of amusement in Arthur’s eyes was his only warning. Arthur swallowed him down in one greedy gulp, sucking and holding him in his throat for several seconds before beginning to bob his head up and down in a rhythm that Arthur knew from long practice drove Eames mad. He loved Arthur like this, loved seeing the lines of spit that connected his dick to Arthur’s mouth, loved to feel them drip down over his balls, slide down wetly to his arse.  
  
Eames heard the asinine sounds he was making, felt Arthur lean forward, holding his hips down when he tried to arch up, deeper into Arthur’s wicked mouth, then jerk away when it was too much, too soon. The ring kept the pressure tight enough so that he could feel his dick throbbing with the need to come, but kept him just on that knife’s edge between pain and blacking out from coming all over himself.  
  
Arthur was relentless, sloppy with drool as he licked him, sucked what he could down his throat and tightened his throat muscles again and again, until Eames was grunting with each spasm of Arthur’s throat, a “uhh.. uhh. uhhh” that seemed to be all he could shout, voice hoarse.  
  
When he felt the wet tip of Arthur’s finger flirting with the rim of his arsehole, all of the tension went out of Eames all at once. He snatched the pillow, trying to muffle his moans, actually a little embarrassed at how much noise he was making. Eames felt Arthur slide his fingertip inside his stretched hole, still wet and sensitive from Arthur’s mouth. Eames curled up, biting his lip hard enough that he tasted the bright, brassy taste of iron blooming across his tastebuds.  
  
Arthur’s lips were swollen as he pulled off of Eames’ cock with a flirty little _pop_ of sound. “Eames?”  
  
It was a few seconds before Eames could uncurl his body enough to speak properly. Still, it took him two tries before shaking his head and sort of flopping over, goosebumps breaking out on his skin as Arthur lazily fucked him with the tip of his first finger, sliding the spit and leftover lube around and around his tight little hole.  
  
“You’ll let me fuck you, right? You loved my mouth on your cock. I know you did. And God, listening to you go crazy when I shoved my tongue inside of you... Jesus, just thinking about it made me hard again, Eames.”  
  
“My turn to pick, yeah?”  
  
“Mmm, sure. I suppose that’s only fair.”  
  
Arthur wiggled and Eames slapped his arsecheek, knowing it would jiggle the butt plug that was still inside of him. Arthur sucked in a deep breath and Eames fumbled in the drawer, pulling Arthur into another kiss as he searched blindly for the toy that had caused both of them such surprise earlier while reading over the suggestions in the studio. There had been very little direction, but the buyer had requested this particular toy, or one very much like it. It was a double vibrator, made from a hard plastic, that had circular ridges at varying points down. The vibe wasn’t too long, maybe five inches or so, with the controls in the middle so that both partners could get at them.  
  
“Oh my God. Maybe I should get a ring too.” Arthur’s eyes were wide- as though he had no idea that the whole thing had been set up and previously staged. Eames’ smile slid away without him being fully aware of it. He bent forward to kiss Arthur again, sliding his hands over Arthur’s tight arse, removing the plug and tossing it onto the floor. Eames slipped two fingers down the cleft of Arthur’s arse, just barely playing with the stretched rim of muscle, dipping just slightly inside of him. He loved kissing Arthur, was already addicted to his mouth. Eames could taste his own precome, could smell his own clean sweat as Arthur broke the kiss with a breathless little murmur.  
  
They moved so that Eames was braced against the mirror again, Arthur kneeling over his legs. Arthur teased him by sliding over the deep red, swollen head of Eames’ cock, letting him feel the heat of his slick arse before moving so that he could dribble lube onto the vibrator, making sure both ends were good and wet. Eames couldn’t help it- he tensed up a little as the first bump of it hit his balls, before Arthur slid it into place.  
  
“Come on baby, just bear down a little. Let me in...”  
  
Eames jerked his eyes up to Arthur’s, shocked at the pet name. Arthur didn’t use pet names, ever.  
  
Arthur was so intent that he didn’t notice- or was ignoring what he had said. He moved his wrist a little and Eames tried to relax, ignoring how his heart was pounding in his chest. He gripped Arthur’s wrist to anchor himself as Arthur slid the slick plastic slowly inside of him. Arthur moved carefully, making sure that Eames was ready for more before it was positioned any deeper.  
  
“Oh, fuck. Look at you... _god_ I can’t believe you’re letting me do this...” Arthur flipped it onto its lowest setting, sliding it slowly out of Eames’ arse, starting to fuck him with it faster and faster as his body adjusted, cock bobbing with each movement of Arthur's wrist as he shoved the toy in deeper.  
  
Eames’ head fell back against the mirror with another _thunk_ , his lungs too small for his chest as he watched Arthur watching him, looking at his handiwork with an intense little stare.   
  
When Arthur stopped, it was sudden enough that it shocked Eames out of the hip rocking, pelvis rolling rhythm he’d been in. He jerked his gaze back to Arthur's watching as Arthur turned off the vibrator before slowly sliding himself down onto it. The angle was perfect so that when they both shifted, their cocks slid together. When Arthur used the palm of his hand on the mirror for leverage to move away, the bumps on the plastic dick dragged against what felt like every single nerve ending Eames had. It took a bit of practice to move so that they both felt it, but when Eames reached down and flipped the vibrator on, they could only clutch each other, shuddering.  
  
“Arthur.. Arthur...Arthur!” Eames couldn’t help the moans. It felt like that was the only word that he knew. Except for ‘now,’ or ‘please.’  He had just enough presence of mind to keep those behind his teeth. They moved slowly, one thrusting into the other, then moving so that they both arched in synch, each fucking themselves with the toy.  
  
Eames cried out again when Arthur moved with a quick jerk, flipping off the vibe and sliding it out, tossing it down to where Eames had thrown the plug. Arthur kissed his slack lips, pushing him and prodding him until Eames was back on all fours with his arse in the air. Arthur slid in with a cry, and Eames’ braced himself as Arthur fucked him, hanging onto Eames’ waist with both hands and pulling him back onto Arthur’s cock. There was a bit of stretch, when Arthur slid in, but Eames was so turned on that he hardly felt it.  
  
Eames’ own dick was flushed red, shiny with the dripping precome that the cockring couldn’t hold back. It throbbed with every beat of his heart keeping him from coming, until he was dizzy, clutching the crooked sheets with both fists, just trying to hang on as Arthur fucked into him, turning slightly so that he hit Eames’ prostate on each thrust. “Please.. Arthur. God, please you little ... _fuck,_ let me... I need to fucking _come_!”  
  
Eames felt Arthur’s teeth on his shoulder as every muscle tensed. Arthur came again with a strangled cry, burying himself as deeply as he could.  
  
“Eames...?”  
  
Eames didn’t think he could move. Every muscle he had fought the cockring. If he hadn’t been clutching the sheets so hard, he would have reached down to undo the snap himself.  
  
“Come on, Eames. Turn over for me okay? Eames?”  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”  
  
Arthur laughed, breathless. “I’m gonna slide out, okay? Keep my come inside of you. I want to try one more thing. You’ll let me, right?”  
  
Eames couldn’t think straight. He was thirsty, his body felt like he had sweated gallons of water, and all of the blood in his sodding body was trapped in his throbbing cock.   
  
“Come on now. Calm down a little. I don’t want you to shoot the second I take this thing off. If I go take care of something, do you promise not to touch yourself?”  
  
Eames was able to muster up one extremely filthy look.  
  
Arthur laughed again. “Yes or no? I can just finish you off now.” He gave a little push of his hips and sparks went off behind Eames’ eyes, causing him to gasp.   
  
“Okay.. ready? Keep your ass tight. Don’t let any of my come leak out, okay?” Arthur sounded so earnest that Eames couldn’t help the fond little smile. Arthur pulled out, slowly.   
  
Eames waved a hand in what was vaguely a ‘okay’ motion, trying all of the breathing tricks he’d ever used when fucking someone on camera to try to keep from coming. That helped make him remember that he was doing this for an audience, and that he had an image to maintain. He’d come close to the edge, and talked himself back hundreds of times before. Of course, that had been before he realized that Arthur was such a delightfully kinky little fuck, but it didn’t really matter. The results would be the same. Eames sucked in a deep breath. Another. Another, feeling his heartbeat slowing slightly. He shut his eyes, concentrating on his body.  
  
He did as Arthur requested, going so far as to cross his legs, still breathing deeply with his arse as tight as he could make it. His cock was so heavy that it lay against his stomach, curving up slightly and leaving a wet, sticky patch where it lay. Eames balled his fists so that he wouldn’t jerk off the cockring and wank himself stupid. Good thing too. As on-edge as he was, he’d probably sprain his goddamn wrist.

Arthur left, and Eames heard his footsteps getting quieter on the steps. It seemed like an age before Arthur returned with a bottle of cold water. Eames drank it gratefully, overly aware of the cameras as Arthur bent down to kiss his lips with a quick peck.    
  
“... good. God, your cock is so fucking hard.” Arthur reached out and slid the palm of his hand down Eames’ stomach, just barely brushing over his skin. Eames jumped with another little gasp, his eyes flying open.  
  
Arthur’s hand was cool from the water bottle, and felt bloody   _cold_ against his dick. Arthur's small smirk said that he knew exactly what he was doing too, the little sod.  
  
Eames shifted, posing a little. He had calmed down enough that the urge to come wasn’t so intense. He had enough control over his body to keep himself hard, but not on the knife-edge of orgasm.  
  
Eames leaned over to put the water bottle on the nightstand, stretching a little as he did so.  Arthur sat down beside him on the bed.  Arthur was still sweaty around his temples, and he’d pushed his hair so that it went in about twelve different directions. Eames reached out, stroking Arthur’s cheek, surprised when Arthur leaned into the small caress, kissing at Eames’ fingers.  
  
Arthur really was a superb actor.  
  
Unfortunate, really. It hit him that this was their last time. That he would no longer be working with Arthur after Yusuf cut and spliced this last film together. In fact, it was all possible that he would never see Arthur again. Arthur gave him a quizzical look, and Eames cursed himself. Some of what he was feeling must have been showing on his face.  
  
“Hey.” Arthur gave him a small smile and bent, stretching his arm over Eames’ chest so that he could kiss Eames’ lips. It was a quick gesture that real lovers would do without thinking twice. Eames refused to examine just why it caused his gut to clench, his throat closing with emotion.  
  
“Hey, pet.”  
  
Arthur wrinkled his nose.  
  
“Petal?”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes.  
  
“Schnookums?”  
  
“You’re an ass.”  
  
Eames was so surprised that he laughed a bright, sharp burst of sound.  
  
“Yeah, but I’m _your_ ass, darling. Speaking of arses….”  
  
Arthur just shook his head, a small smile at his lips as he bent so that he lay stretched along Eames’ legs, his longer body seeming to take up twice the space. Arthur shifted so that his head was pillowed on his arms, laying them across Eames’ thighs. He was close enough that some of Arthur’s silky hair brushed lightly against Eames’ balls, causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh.  
  
“Nice segue. What’s the matter, Mr. Eames? Feeling a little abandoned?” Arthur traced lightly over the leather strap of the toy, as though fascinated.    
  
Eames shook his head a little, smiling at Arthur’s upturned face. “Not abandoned. Just curious to what else you want to try. I mean, my arse has been through a lot in the past hour or so. I think I deserve a little treat, yeah?”  
  
“Did you do what I asked?” Arthur sounded as though he hadn’t expected it, like a kid who had received an unexpected treat. “Let me see!”  
  
It was absolutely ridiculous, but Eames found his cheeks heating in a blush.  
  
“Are you… _blushing_?”  Arthur lifted off of Eames’ legs, grinning delightedly.  
  
“I’m horrified that you turned out to be such a kinky little fuck.” Eames spread his legs open, tilting his pelvis a little so that Arthur could see properly. Eames felt Arthur’s cold fingers as he gently moved his balls, lightly trailing his nails over the bottom end and up over the base of Eames’ cock.  
  
“Show me.”  
  
Eames shivered a little at the low, dark note in Arthur’s voice, surprised at how much he wanted to comply. He tightened his arsehole a little, then purposefully relaxed, feeling some of Arthur’s come dribble out of him.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Eames.…. Again. Do it again.”  
  
Eames did, not surprised when Arthur moaned, low in his throat. Eames felt his cock jerk at the sound, and hauled himself up again onto his elbows so that he could see the top of Arthur’s head. Arthur bent a little more, lapping at his come, like a cat with cream. Eames could swear that his cock jerked with each touch of Arthur’s tongue, and he had to throw his own arm over his face, biting his own forearm to keep from screaming out. He’d never, ever let anyone do this to him before, but couldn’t seem to help the way his legs spread of their own volition, his hips tilting so that Arthur could lick at him properly. Just like that his body was on the knife’s edge of coming again, held in check by the leather cockring.  
  
“Do you want to come like this, Eames? Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you spread out for me. How much I’ve dreamed of your gorgeous ass, of feeling it so fucking tight around my cock. I---.” Arthur pulled back, meeting Eames’ gaze with eyes that were completely and intensely focused. “What do _you_ want? For me to suck you? To fuck me?”  
  
Eames reached down to his own cock, only to groan when Arthur slapped his hand away. His whole body jerked when Arthur’s finger traced the sensitive, wet edge of the tight little pucker of muscle, going around and around until Eames clenched again, trying to move so that Arthur’s finger would slide inside of him.  
  
“I… _Fuck_!” Eames cursed in frustration, spreading his legs wider. He moved his hand away from his mouth, jerking a handful of Arthur’s hair, his other hand coming to rest on Arthur’s bony shoulder. He didn’t know if it was the role reversal of their usual positions, or the cameras that he couldn’t seem to quite forget about, or the way that all of Arthur’s considerable attention was directed purely at him, but Eames knew he wasn’t going to last long. It was ridiculous and completely clichéd, but his arse felt _empty_.  
  
He ached with wanting to be filled. “Your… muh--mouth.” Eames’ lips fell open on a gasp when Arthur ducked his head, to tease with cool puffs of air on Eames’ already overheated skin. “Clean me up. Put that filthy little mouth on my arse, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur shifted, bringing up his other hand. “Lift yourself out of my way.” Eames did, grunting a little when Arthur gave his balls a parting squeeze. He felt Arthur’s long, thin finger slide right in, than another. Arthur curled them up, scissored them once, and jerked them out.  
  
“Look. The mirror. Watch me.”  
  
Eames turned his head and almost came right there at the sight of Arthur licking at his come-soaked fingers. His body jerked and Eames couldn’t make himself look away. Arthur had arranged him so that he could watch Arthur’s mouth as he moved in, or as he pulled his head back so that he could finger Eames’ arse. Each time Arthur removed his two fingers from Eames’ tight heat; he would lick the come off like he was going after an ice-cream cone. When he’d stretched Eames’ arsehole a little more, he bent again, licking at him, spearing his tongue into Eames’ hole to get every last bit of his own come from the hot little passage.  
  
Eames started jerking his own cock, unable to help himself. He could feel Arthur’s talented mouth; feel the way his hole clenched around Arthur’s wet tongue. When Arthur scraped his teeth over Eames’ perineum, Eames’ whole body arched. He braced his feet against the mattress, and tried his best to fuck down onto Arthur’s mouth, which lapped at him teasingly. Arthur slipped in three fingers, fucking him fast with them, teasing his prostate each time he pressed his curled fingers inside.  
  
Eames screwed himself down onto Arthur’s fingers, greedy for the sensation of being stretched and filled. He couldn’t say how long they did that, Arthur spreading him open with his fingers, Eames fucking down onto them with his mouth completely slack, crying out with each stroke of his prostate, but when Arthur moved to jerk the snap of the cockring, pulling it off of Eames with two quick tugs, Eames felt his balls tighten, and tried to pull away, aware of the fact that he had no control over his own body’s reactions. There had been too much, for too long. Arthur had taken the not-script to heart, and Eames flinched from that as much as from everything else.  
  
When Arthur fastened his lips around his hole and sucked, keeping Eames from pulling away from him with long, thin fingers tightened around Eames' hips hard enough to bruise, Eames saw stars.  
  
He came with a cry, frozen into place as thick ropes of come arched into the air, then splattered over his chest, his thighs, and his stomach. He felt like it went on for minutes. Eames wasn’t aware of his words, just the force of them spilling from his throat as he and Arthur both jerked at his cock with their fingers tangling together, milking each drop of come from him until he collapsed helplessly back onto the bed, his heart pounding, grey skirting the edge of his vision as starbursts popped behind his closed eyelids.  
  
Then he wasn’t aware of anything at all, for quite some time.

* * *

  
Eames woke up with his tongue feeling like he’d licked the bottom of the bin before passing out. He lay there for a moment or two, listening to his heartbeat. He wasn’t hung over, but he wasn’t in _his_ bed, either. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale sex still trapped in the room. Slowly, he became aware of a few things: his toes were cold, he was alone in the room, and his arse felt like... well. Images of tunnels and lorries came to mind. Eames winced, then grinned rather dopily at the rucked up bedsheets.  
  
“Art--” He coughed, wincing. Eames cautiously opened his eyes, blinking in the low light. “Arthur?” There was no sound in the silent room. Eames watched in the mirror as he pouted, then immediately made himself stop, feeling foolish. He pushed up, noting that Arthur must have covered him with the sheet before going off into another part of the house.  
  
Eames stretched, noticing that the cameras were gone. He shook his head, knuckling the sleep out of his eye, then made a face at the dried come stains on his hands.  
  
“ _That_ is definitely not attractive.”  
  
Eames rolled out of the bed and winced again. His arse didn’t _hurt_ exactly, but he clearly had used muscles that hadn’t been stretched quite that way before. “Arthur? You better be making coffee. I’m not just a cheap lay, you know, darling. Breakfast is a must.”  
  
He shrugged when he didn’t hear Arthur’s reply. He was probably listening to music. Arthur was forever ignoring a lot of what was going on at the studios, listening to some ridiculously pretentious hipster music, the pink wire of his earbuds the only indication of his how unaware he was.  
  
Eames made his way to the shower yawning and scratching a little at his stomach. The water felt divine, and Eames let himself use a good bit of Arthur’s hot water tank as he lathered up. He’d very carefully avoided thinking too closely about what he’d done last night. That Arthur had crossed that line... from just a job to someone Eames wouldn’t mind waking up with, well. It was bound to be awkward. Arthur was such a particular little thing. He always had things planned out to the nth degree. Eames frowned as he rinsed his hair, not exactly sure how he would fit into Arthur’s life.  
  
But Arthur hadn’t been acting last night. He couldn’t have been, not for all of it. Eames knew what pretend intimacy looked like. Hell, he’d practically invented the concept. Whatever he and Arthur had done last night (and Eames couldn’t help the little smirk as he remembered just exactly what it was that they’d done), it sure as balls hadn’t been ‘pretend.’  
  
Eames shut off the water and stepped out, frowning a little when he noticed that there wasn’t a towel. In fact, the bathroom was fairly empty, lacking a toothbrush, or toothpaste. Not that Eames would have used Arthur’s toothbrush. He liked his liver exactly where it was, thanks. Maybe this was a guest bathroom?  
  
Eames walked back out to the bedroom naked, finding Arthur’s towel from last night and wrapping it around his hips. “Arthur? Look, I didn’t mean to steal your bed. You could have just shoved me--”  
  
Arthur wasn’t in the kitchen. The floorplan of the house was open, with a breakfast nook the only thing to mar the wide space. Eames could quickly see that Arthur wasn’t in the living room or the dining room either. Eames bit his lip, turning to check the garage, already sure of what he would find. Sure enough, even Arthur’s car was gone.  
  
 _Oh._ Well, that .... okay then.  
  
There were boxes stacked haphazardly around the living space. Eames must have been so nervous yesterday that he hadn’t noticed, but it was fairly clear that Arthur was moving.  
  
Of course he was. He’d quit his job.  
  
Numbly, Eames made his way back to Arthur’s bedroom. That explained why Arthur didn’t mind them using his personal space as a set. Of course there wouldn’t be any identifying information. He’d packed everything up. Eames couldn’t even smile at the way Arthur had carefully folded Eames’ things. Even the toys were gone, packed up and gone the way of the cameras.  
  
Eames dressed, having to swallow hard around the blockage in his throat. He coughed, turning to fumble for his phone. He dialed the number from long-standing memory, which was a good thing given that his fingers were starting to shake. He couldn’t tell Mal about this. She’d take one look at him and know.... She would know everything. Eames wracked his brain for another number to call. Ariadne wasn’t his first choice, but she would do in a pinch.  
  
The numbness was beginning to be replaced by a feeling of such complete stupidity that he was horrified at himself. “You are a such an utter... _git_!” Eames ignored the way his throat tightened even more as his own harsh whisper filled the empty house.  
  
“Eames! What a pleasant surprise! How...”  
  
“Ari?” Eames interrupted, and whatever she heard in his voice made her cut off her speaking, abruptly. “I...” his voice cracked. Eames cleared his throat and took another deep breath. “It appears as though I need a ride. Fucker didn’t even leave me cab fare.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Mr. Eames?”  
  
Eames jumped hard enough to jar his knee against the desk. He barely caught the bottle of water with a low curse before it tipped over onto the tablet. He rolled his eyes under the sunglasses. Even though it had been three weeks since Arthur had quit Dreamshare Studios, the sound of Eames’ name with the ‘Mister’ in front of it never failed to get his heart thudding in his chest. Not that he expected much, really. Quite the opposite. Arthur had made it clear that he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Eames.  
  
It wasn’t like Eames could blame him, really. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault that Eames had figured out that he turned into a teenage girl whenever the younger man’s name was mentioned. Thank god Mal was distracted with some project or other and couldn’t harp on him over the spectacular fuck-up he’d managed to accomplish. It was so beyond ridiculous to fall in love with one of your fellow porn stars. It was even more ridiculous to be … hurt that they didn’t seem to care for you back.  
  
Eames hadn’t heard much about his and Arthur’s outside commissioned project. He supposed that everything turned out okay; he’d received his money to his account with very little fuss. In fact, he’d treated himself to a night out on the town. The hangover had been worth seeing his name on TMZ. Eames wasn’t quite sure who the little hipster twink that the photog had caught grinding against him on the dance floor was, but it had gotten him out of his own head for awhile.  
  
Mal had seemed utterly furious at him though. She had blazed into his room and yelled some almost incomprehensible mix of French and English, shrieking at the top of her bloody lungs, then had stomped out before Eames had quite figured out what the fuck was going on, still half-drunk from the night before.  
  
“Mr. Eames? Mal wants you on set.”  
  
Eames nodded, shaking his head at his own thoughts. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute, love. Thanks.” Ariadne gave him a small smile and disappeared. Eames sighed, stretching and standing up. He wrapped a robe around his naked body and quickly muted his phone, leaving it on the small desk by his bag. He only had two more scenes left with Dom, and then he could go home.  
  
Only two more scenes.  
  
Eames caught a glimpse of his body in the mirror and sighed. He still looked amazing of course. He hadn’t gone off in a complete snit; drinking and pouting over Arthur’s leaving like he had done when Eames found out that Arthur was quitting. Still- he’d had… issues.  
  
Issues such as starting to lose his hard-on when he looked down and saw Dom’s sweaty face instead of Arthur’s. Issues such as having to wank himself so his stupid dick would stay interested enough to complete the scene. Hell, he’d even resorted to Robert blowing him a couple of times after he found out that the Viagra made him sick. That had been okay. Robert had slicked back his hair from the shower, and even though Mal had rolled her eyes at having to be the first pornography studio to actually use a fluffer since the early 90’s, it had been easy enough for Eames to picture Arthur on his knees in front of him, his dark head bent to its task.  
  
Eames sighed again. It was bloody embarrassing that he had to sodding _fantasize_ about someone else in order to do his job. Thank god no one had figured it out, or Mal would laugh herself into a coma. Eames had a sneaking suspicion that Mal had figured out that Eames’ new feelings regarding his job. Instead of being something that he was justifiably proud of, his skill at fucking was now just something to get through, before he could go home and start channel surfing.  
  
He reached into the robe and cupped his dick, closing his eyes. It didn’t take much. Eames could remember almost every single minute of that night. With a quick bite of his bottom lip, Eames remembered Arthur’s desperation when Eames fucked him with the plug, remembered the way Arthur had moaned and cursed at him, the way his fingers had dug into Eames’ shoulder…. A couple of strokes and Eames was ready to go out onto set.  
  
  
 _*****_  
 _“Uhhgnn. Fuck!”_  
  
Eames pulled out of Dom with a startled jerk of his hips. Had he really seen-- no. Surely not. The flash in the mirrored wall couldn’t have been Arthur. He was losing his sodding mind.  
  
“What the fuck was that?”  
  
“Er.. sorry,mate. We can go again.”  
  
Dom’s raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Eames frowned, slapped Dom’s arse cheek and looked back to check with Mal before sliding back inside his slick, wet heat. Eames squinted, trying to see in the depths of the murky darkness where the rest of the crew lurked with their cameras and sound equipment. Mal was easily identifiable by her red shirt and was turned away from him, speaking to someone whose profile was in shadow. Eames heard the direction to start again, and started thrusting, bending over to kiss at Dom’s shoulder like the script called for.  
  
Dom started moaning again, and Eames rolled his eyes, hiding his face between Dom’s shoulderblades. The condom was too tight and pulled at his pubic hair, causing him to wince. He hated those things. One thing that was nice about working at Dreamshare was that Mal maintained that the few who worked there were regularly tested. She maintained that they were as safe as they could be. Still, he didn’t particularly want his dick in Dom’s arse, now did he? So he put up with the rubber. But damn, was the bloody thing uncomfortable.  
  
Dom moaned when Eames tried a little circular shimmy, and Eames smirked a little when he felt Dom’s arse clench in reaction to his movement. Dom fell forward on his elbows, jarring Eames, throwing him slightly off-balance. Dom made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as gravity forced Eames’ cock the rest of the way inside of him. Eames saw a glint of light and looked up at the mirror again, freezing like a deer in headlights.  
  
 _Arthur?!_  
  
Arthur stood there, dressed impeccably in a suit. His hair was slicked back and he was sipping from a metallic coffee mug. It had been the mug that must have flashed in the lights, catching Eames’ attention in the mirror. Arthur had taken a step out of the shadows, and the look on his face was carefully blank.  
  
Dom pushed back and Eames snapped back to attention, remembering exactly where he was. The camera was right under his arse, getting a good shot of him pushing inside of Dom. Dom’s moans were like white noise. He could smell the sex and sweat in the air, but he still felt detached from everything. All Eames could see was Arthur’s face, watching as his eyes narrowed slightly as Dom’s cries grew louder.  
  
“And cut!”  
  
Eames pulled out with a wet sound, pulling off the rubber and tossing it into the bin Robert held up for him. He shrugged into his robe and turned, taking a step towards Mal and Arthur, feeling his mouth stretch into a terribly fake smile.  
  
Some emotion flickered over Arthur’s face as his small, dark gaze darted quickly up and down Eames’ body. Eames had prepared himself to ignore the way his throat tightened when he saw Arthur again. It wasn’t like Arthur hadn’t seen him hard before. What he hadn’t expected was the hurt that hit him like a punch to the gut when Arthur looked away.  
  
Mal frowned.  
  
“Yeah, well I’m afraid that won’t work, Mal.” Arthur leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Eames felt his grin start to dim as he realized that Arthur didn’t even have the stones to talk to him. “I have a flight. I was just coming back to tie up some loose ends, but now I can see that there really aren’t any loose ends to tie up.”  
  
Mal huffed out a breath. “Non. I’m afraid that simply won’t work. You must meet me for dinner at the very least. We have much to discuss, and I simply can’t let you go until we’ve talked. Eames, did you want to join us?”  
  
Arthur still wouldn’t look directly at him, a fact that _really_ didn’t sit well with Eames. Conversely, he continued to stare directly at Arthur with the ridiculously toothy grin on his face, waiting for the smaller man’s response. He stretched, knowing that his cock was still half-hard, peeking through his robe. The sight didn’t cause Mal to bat an eyelash. Seeing men walking around half-dressed, and partially exposed was pretty much par for the course. Even the Fed Ex guy hardly noticed anymore. Eames was delighted to see that it caused a bright flush to pinken Arthur’s pale cheeks.  
  
“No. I have plans.” He didn’t. But damned if he was going to try to suffer through a meal, playing nice while Mal and Arthur talked. “Will have to take a rain-check. Talk to you later, Mal, Arthur.” Just to be a dick, Eames held out his hand, for Arthur to shake. “Nice to see you again. I think I’m off for a shower, and some lunch. You don’t need me back until three, right?”  
  
Eames caught a glimpse of something on Mal’s face that was gone too quickly for him to identify. He tried not to shiver at the feel of Arthur’s strong, capable grip, as his fingers closed around his. The shook exactly three times before jerking back their hands.  
  
“I suppose not. We can wrap with Dom later.”  
  
“Fantastic. See you then.” Eames wiggled his fingers and took off, winking at Arthur just because he could. If he didn’t think Arthur would break his fingers, he would have leaned over to pinch his cheek. As he walked away, he carefully avoided looking at either Mal or Arthur. It wasn’t as easy to ignore the way his heart felt like he’d stabbed himself. It was stupid to be upset. Obviously, Arthur hadn’t attached any special significance to their time together. He’d very carefully put Eames in the “job well done, now walk away” category. Eames could do the same.  
  
Eventually.

* * *

**I need your help. Please meet me back @ studio around 8.**

**I've tried blocking this thing three FUCKING times &**

**I really need another set of eyes. I'll bring the coffee.(6:23 pm)**

 

 

**And don't tell me you actually have plans.**

**I know you're full of SHIT. (6:24 pm).**

 

 

Eames looked down at the two texts, lips twitching in a grin. Mal swore like a sailor, and the fact that all the swear words were capitalized just made it funnier. He quickly texted back:

 ****

 

**Sure, darling. Cya then. xx (6:32 pm)**

  
  
and darted a quick glance at the clock. It was already almost seven-thirty. It wasn’t the first time Mal had called, requesting that he bring a different perspective to what she was shooting. In fact, Eames had been writing most of the scripts (such as they were- some were pretty straight forward, but some had been marketed as actual movies, with much more of a plot than the straight-up porn.) more and more frequently while Mal worked with other films.  
  
Eames had just enough time to shower, get dressed and drive over there.


	6. Chapter 6

  
He pulled up with a few minutes to spare, grinning at the little sticky note Mal had left on the door. _“ **4got the coffee. Everything u need is in the basement. Be back asap!”**_  
  
Eames took the steps two at a time, carefully locking and setting the alarm behind him. Not that they were in a particularly dangerous neighborhood, but he’d been caught once with some overly exuberant fans, and didn’t care to repeat the experience.  
  
The basement was set up with a door on both ends of the stairway. Mal insisted that she needed the privacy. The basement office was completely Mal’s domain. It was furnished, and had everything from a futon to a small kitchen and bathroom. Usually it was kept locked, so that no one would stumble upon anything particularly confidential, such as financial records or client names.  
  
Eames slowly opened the door. There was hardly any warning: a shift of air and a scrape of a footstep on the concrete stair, before he was shoved hard in the middle of his back. Eames fell forward, stumbling and landing hard on his knee. He heard the slam of the door and the unmistakable sound of it being locked and deadbolted before he could turn, shock making him stupid and slow.  
  
“Sorry, pet.”  
  
 _Mal_?! What the fuck? “What the _fuck_ , Mal?”  
  
“It’s for your own good. I’ve given everyone tomorrow off, and I’ll let you two _connard têtue_ out sometime tomorrow. You have everything you need on the desk. Make sure you read the folder, yes? Oh, and I’ve jammed your cell signal. Ta-ta, dearheart.”  
  
“Mal! You crazy bint, are you… Mal? _Mal_!!” He pounded on the door, and kicked it, cursing when his flip-flop didn’t protect his foot. “Fuck!” Eames grabbed his foot and hopped in place for a second, glaring at the door. Pure contrariness made him check his cell phone, and sure enough, he had no network coverage. Eames could only gnash his teeth as he turned and looked around the room. He could see a grocery sack full of what he assumed to be food. It pissed him off even more to see that the laptops and phone that Mal usually kept here were gone. There were two windows high on the basement walls, but since it was dark, and since he wasn’t a built like a second-grader, there’d be no luck getting out of there.  
  
Eames heard a small sound and froze, turning to the futon in the corner. She’d called him a stubborn--- no. Wait. She’d called _them_ stubborn shitheads. With a sinking heart, Eames realized exactly who was curled up, sound asleep on the futon. He sucked in his breath, staring stupidly at the long, lithe frame curled up in a little ball on the sheets.  
  
Arthur yawned, and Eames’ heart gave a funny sort of wiggle when he saw him scrub the sleep out of his eyes with his curled-up forefingers. Arthur yawned again, and gave him a sleepy sort of smile. “Hey, Eam—“ Arthur’s brain must have caught up with his mouth, because Eames could clearly see the horrified look on Arthur’s face. Arthur jumped up and looked around wildly before mumbling something and walking to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. There were three muffled _thunks_ as though someone had hit their head repeatedly against a hard surface.  
  
“Perfect. Just fucking perfect,” Eames muttered, stomping over to Mal’s desk.By the food were two manila envelopes, both clearly marked with their names. Eames had half a second where he thought that he could quickly scan the contents of Arthur’s before he got a hold of himself. Inside were two pieces of paper. One looked like a letter, and had Mal’s clearly identifiable block writing on it. The other looked to be a receipt. Eames heard the door unlock and he glanced up to see Arthur come walking out, looking much more composed.  
  
“Here.”  
  
Arthur gave him an odd look as he reached out to take the envelope. Eames ignored him in favor of the receipt. At first glance, it didn’t make any sense. He looked at the note from Mal and snorted.

  
 _You are a complete and utter idiot._ **  
**_This might help you get your head _ **  
**_out of your ass._ **  
** **_Moron._ ** **  
**_-Mal_

  
Eames blinked, looking at the receipt a lot more carefully. When he realized what he was looking at, Eames felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He raised his stunned gaze to Arthur’s, who was looking at him warily.  
  
“Mal said she drugged me. That she was sorry, but I deserved it.”  
  
Eames just blinked. It said a lot about his day that that wasn’t even the most shocking thing that had happened to him today.  
  
“And that we’re locked in here? Oh, and she gave you something to read. I guess it must be pretty good since you look like you just got hit across the back of the head with a board.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  
  
Things were clicking into place. But that meant… but why…? Eames blinked again, nodding. He handed the receipt to Arthur, noticing the faint tremor of his shaking hands. Eames watched as Arthur winced before a bright red flush covered his face. “Ah... that’s. Jesus, that’s pretty awkward. So much for client confidentiality. I should sue.”  
  
“You…?” Eames couldn’t quite make himself believe it. “But…?”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Okay, I admit it was stupid. And kind of sneaky. And I will point out that you agreed to everything, so it’s not like you were coerced or anything.” Clearly needing space between them, Arthur crossed over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it, staring at Eames as though he was bored. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if you want an apology, you have it. It was stupid of me to think…. Well. It doesn’t matter what I thought. You made it perfectly clear that we were operating on two very different wavelengths.” Arthur’s lips narrowed. “Besides, you spent the money quickly enough.”  
  
Eames felt his throat tighten again. “Why would you just… I mean… Let me get this straight. You paid for the job. For me and you to fuck. You _paid_ for _me_ to fuck _you_. You set … set all this up?” The shocked feeling was spreading, turning to real, acute pain. He’d been so stupid to think that Arthur wanted... wanted anything… Eames swallowed hard, staring down at the words blurring on the paper. It had been quite awhile since anything he’d done in or out of Dreamshare had made him feel like a whore. Before, when it was just a job for a client, no problem. No worries. He was proud of his job. Now though? Knowing that Arthur had basically paid... paid for Eames’ dick? He let out a shaky breath, looking down at the floor.  
  
Arthur began fiddling with his phone. “Look. I’m _sorry_. That was a cheap shot. And don’t get me wrong- it was a lot of fun and all. But then… then I thought that maybe… maybe you weren’t acting. You told me ages ago: don’t fall for your co-stars.”  
  
Eames was clearly missing something here. Maybe several somethings. Several, _several_ somethings. One thing was clear, though: Arthur had set this up. Had set _him_ up.  
  
“Well, that explains why you fucked off before I even got up.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Arthur’s gaze was direct. Too intense.  
  
Eames turned to rummage in the grocery bag, feeling horribly confused, almost overwhelmed by everything. Eames rolled his eyes. “It’s not that difficult, darling. It’s my own fault for expecting anything different.” This was going to be rather embarrassing, but better to have it all out in the open. He took a deep breath and mirrored Arthur’s pose, standing with his arse against Mal’s desk. “I admit I… I thought that maybe a couple of times you weren’t acting. That you were really there with _me_ , and not just there for the cameras. And I… admit that I didn’t take my own advice. But it’s okay, Arthur. I won’t cause a scene or anything. You made your feelings, or lack thereof, perfectly clear when you were gone before I woke up.”  
  
“Wait just a damn minute! You make it sound like I just took off!”  
  
Eames gave Arthur his best withering stare out from under his eyelashes. He found some Doritos in the bag and made a face, setting them carefully on the desk. Eames jumped when he felt Arthur’s hand on his arm.  
  
“Eames,” he said gently, “I _didn’t_ just take off. I left you a note, on the bed. I went out for breakfast since I didn’t have anything in the house. When I got back, you were gone.”  
  
Eames blinked, head jerking up quickly enough that his vertebra cracked.  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
“No bullshit. I went down to the store. I was gone maybe... _maybe_ an hour. I thought for sure you’d still be asleep when I got back. Then I got back and ... no texts.. no emails, nothing. The shower was still wet and steamy. I figured that you woke and took off because I was being so.. uh. clingy. I know how you hate that shit. So, I was trying to respect your boundaries. I felt... I _feel_ guilty enough for ... tricking you into ... that night.”  
  
Eames caught his breath. “I.” He had to clear his throat. “I liked you being clingy. And _kinky_ , Jesus fuck Arthur.” He took a step forward, brushing his body slightly against Arthur’s.  
  
“You... you did?” Eames watched as Arthur blinked in surprise, trying to process what he had said. “But. But you thought. That means that you. That I... That. Oh my _God_. “  
  
“Arthur. I woke up alone. Saw the empty house. Thought you’d taken off; I mean it was clear that you were moving. You quit your job. Why would I think you’d stay arou--” Eames broke off when Arthur kissed him, freezing almost completely in surprise.  
  
“Mal is right. We are both such fucking idiots. You never asked me the reason I’m quitting Dreamshare.” Arthur pulled back so that he could look up into Eames’ eyes. “I. uh. I fell in love with someone. And it was driving me crazy to see them fuck someone else. I got to where I would lose my hard-on whenever I saw him... _you_ with one of the others, Eames.”  
  
Eames literally could not speak.  
  
“Mal made a comment when I told her that I was quitting. I think she knew why before I did. When I placed the order, I think she thought it was funny at first. Then you were out sick, and I guess she was worried that you wouldn’t be well enough. Wanted me to cancel it. But... But I couldn’t. I thought that if that was going to be my only time to be truly intimate with you, then I wanted it. Even if it was pretend. Then you were gone. Poof. I thought you were done. So I went to my mother’s early for her birthday. Couldn’t stand being here and not.. and knowing that you didn’t want me the same way that I wanted you. Saw you on TMZ and holy shit, I was so jealous. Came back to try one last time to tell you all this and... shit. Please tell me to stop talking.”  
  
Eames just shook his head. He felt like his skin was too hot, but he wanted to shiver with the sensation of having Arthur’s body so close to him. If his knees didn’t still sting from when Mal pushed him onto the bloody floor, Eames would think that he was dreaming.  
  
Instead of telling him to stop talking, Eames leaned forward, kissing Arthur like he’d forgotten how. Their lips brushed together once, twice before Eames licked at Arthur’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Their mouths opened as they kissed, Eames, licking into Arthur’s mouth like he was trying to map his flavor with his tongue. Arthur wrapped his arms around him, leaning into him and kissing him back. He shifted so that his leg pressed between Arthur’s, giving him something to grind against. Eames walked Arthur back to the wall, groaning when it caused their bodies to press together even more tightly.  
  
Eames wanted to say something else, and knew that they should probably talk properly, but God, it seemed impossible that he could miss this so much. Miss Arthur so much. He couldn’t quite believe that Arthur would still want him, after everything. Arthur’s long fingers slid down Eames’ back to cup his arse. Eames pulled back and smirked when he heard Arthur’s breath catch.  
  
The sound Arthur made deep in his throat put Eames right back in Arthur’s bedroom. He kept Arthur against the wall with his body, pulling away only to stare down at him through half-lidded eyes. Arthur broke off the kiss to drag his teeth against the stubble on Eames’ jaw. The heavy sound made Eames’ cock jerk in his trousers. Arthur’s carefully styled hair was standing out in all directions, with the bulk of his bangs falling over his forehead. Two bright red spots of color stood out high on his cheekbones, bright against the normal paleness of his skin. Arthur’s lips were swollen and wet from Eames’ mouth, parted slightly as he breathed heavily. Even his eyes looked like Arthur was completely wrecked, the brown iris almost obliterated by pupils gone wide with want.  
  
“That’s a good look on you, darling.” Eames smirked when Arthur shivered. Eames tilted his pelvis forward teasingly, brushing Arthur’s cock with his own. Arthur made a keening sound and tightened his hands on Eames’ broad shoulders, wrapping one leg around Eames’ waist, in effect climbing up his body until he was exactly where he needed to be- rubbing thickly against Eames’ cock.  
  
Eames moved his hands so that he cupped Arthur’s arse, bracing himself with one arm against the wall. Arthur arched his back, grinding down onto Eames’ dick, head thrown back, completely lost in his own pleasure. Eames held on tightly, letting Arthur take what he wanted. “God, look at you, desperate for it. You look so goddamn beautiful like this, Arthur.” Eames’ low mutter in Arthur’s ear made him buck wildly, his nails digging into the meat of Eames’ thick neck. “Hmm, you like this? Like me talking to you? Not surprising, yeah? You always did take direction well. Come on, now. Like that. Just like that. Fuck….. yeah, you gorgeous thing.”  
  
Arthur tensed, his eyes snapping open for a second. Eames bent down, kissing Arthur hard enough that their teeth clicked together before they lined up properly- Arthur’s needy little cries loud in Eames’ mouth. Eames moaned when Arthur came hard enough that his head snapped back against the wall. It was silent in the basement for a few moments, before Arthur began snickering softly into Eames’ shoulder.  
  
“I haven’t come in my pants like that since I was about twelve.”  
  
Eames smiled, squeezing Arthur’s arse. “God, please say I can fuck you.”  
  
Arthur licked his lips, letting his legs drop so that he was supporting his own weight. Eames grabbed his left wrist, turning so that he could kiss the inside of the soft skin there, feeling like he needed to say something. The pulse beat wildly in Arthur’s wrist, and Eames was overwhelmed for a moment, unsure exactly what he should do.  
  
Which was rather surprising, considering.  
  
Arthur’s answering smile was only a little come-happy as went up on tiptoe to nip at Eames’ lower lip. Arthur made quick work of stripping himself down. Eames made to take off his shirt, but Arthur stopped him with a quick kiss. “No, wait. Can I just…” He trailed off, sliding his hands over Eames’ thickly muscled biceps, down his forearms and back up and down over the thin material of his t-shirt. Arthur brought his hands down past Eames’ waist, cupping the clearly outlined length of his rock hard cock as it lay, trapped against his leg by the tightness of his jeans.  
  
“You know, that night there was only one thing that I wanted, that we didn’t do.” Arthur rubbed at the head of Eames’ material-covered dick, causing Eames to hiss, his hands tightening into fists at his side.  
  
“Yeah?” Eames didn’t even recognize the sound of his voice. It sounded like he’d been gargling glass.  
  
Arthur nodded, leaning forward to nuzzle into Eames’ armpit, breathing him in. Eames felt Arthur’s half-hard cock against his hip and swallowed thickly, his breath drying up in his throat. Arthur reached around towards the desk and picked up the lube Mal had left there, not so discreetly in the center of her desk blotter. “Yeah.” He leaned over and carefully undid Eames’ fly, unbuttoning the jeans and folding the edges in. He reached in and lifted out Eames’ thick cock, testing the weight of it in his hand. “I want to feel you.”  
  
Eames sucked in his breath when Arthur slowly traced his thumb over the head of Eames’ dick. In the dim light of the basement, he could see how swollen he was. Arthur took a step back so that his back was against the wall again, and slowly lifted his leg so that it was back up on Eames’ hip. Arthur reached into the container and scooped out some of the viscous gel. The smell of vanilla caused both of their eyes to roll, too tense to laugh at the idea of Mal finding scented lube for them. She’d always said that it was important to use the good stuff when you wanted more than just a quick fuck. Mal was not known for her subtlety.  
  
Eames felt his jeans slide down to his knees as Arthur moved. Arthur quickly spread some of the lube on his own arsehole, his eyes fluttering shut. Eames found himself bracing one hand against Arthur’s knee, using the other to cup Arthur’s face. The kiss this time was softer, Eames pulling away only to pick Arthur up, his hands cupping Arthur’s arse again as he lifted his weight. He didn’t miss the catch of Arthur’s breath in his throat, hiding his grin by kissing the strong line of Arthur’s neck. Arthur dipped out some more lube and coated the head of Eames’ dick with it, the sensation almost causing Eames’ knees to buckle. Arthur gripped Eames’ cock, hiking himself up a little higher with his hand braced on Eames’ shoulder.  
  
Years of professional fucking caused alarms to blare in Eames’ head.  
  
“Wait--- you didn’t…”  
  
“I know. I’m good. I want you like this. God, _fuck,_ exactly like this.” Arthur shimmied so that the head of Eames’ cock bumped against the tight little pucker of muscle. “I told you, I want to feel it. C’mon… ”  
  
Eames had to bite his lip, trusting that the sharp pain would keep him from coming on the spot. Eames adjusted Arthur against the wall, watching for any trace of pain on Arthur’s flushed face as he slowly pressed the head of his cock against Arthur’s hole.  
  
Arthur was incredibly tight like this.  
  
Eames had the rather optimistic idea that he’d move slowly, not letting Arthur buck down onto his cock. He thought that he would be able to hold Arthur in place and slowly give him inch after inch to keep from hurting him.  
  
Arthur clearly had other ideas. His fingers clenched on the t-shirt, rucking it up slightly as he hung on, pushing into him so that Eames took all of Arthur’s weight at once. They both cried out as Arthur’s quick move caused him to slide down, completely taking the entire thick length of Eames’ cock inside of him with one movement.  
  
Arthur tightened his thighs, and Eames steadied him with one hand, his nails digging into the sharp hipbone. He took his finger out of Arthur’s arse, and wrapped both palms around each globe of Arthur’s arse, helping to lift him, grunting when Arthur sank down on his cock, gravity assuring that there was no space left.  
  
Arthur’s own cock was wet, pressed tightly against their stomachs.   “Eames... Eames...  <i> Eames</i>!”  
  
“You gonna come again?” Eames bit at Arthur’s ear, panting a little as he pulled Arthur up, and down, fucking him down onto his cock. His thighs strained with the sensation of holding him up, but he’d be fucked if he would be the first to let go.  
  
“I... You feel so... “  
  
“I feel so what?”  
  
“God, so deep in me. I can’t...” Arthur tipped his head back, his fingers sliding up Eames’ shoulders, fluttering against his neck to cup his ears, anchor themselves in Eames’ sweaty hair.  
  
“Yeah. You can. Come on, love. You love me dragging you around like this, yeah?” Eames took a careful step, slamming Arthur against the wall. Arthur was so slick from sweat that he slid easily. Eames grabbed his hips, held him to the wall, and fucked him as hard as he could, knowing from long practice that Arthur could take it. From this position, he was able to angle himself so that the head of his cock slid over Arthur’s prostate every time he thrust in, and slid out.  
  
Eames couldn’t say how long he held off. He was determined to make Arthur go first, and with the wall able to take the brunt of his weight, Eames could fuck him with his finger, causing Arthur to stretch just on this side of painful. When Eames began moving the finger in counterpoint with his cock, Arthur screamed out something that had Eames’ name in it somewhere and came, spurting over Eames’ abs and chest. Eames couldn’t make himself last past the tight clench of  
  
Arthur’s arse, and drove himself in as far as he could before coming.  
  
He felt his knees give way, and they sank to the floor, both trying to catch their breath. It took him a few tries, but Eames managed to get Arthur in his arms, and three staggering steps brought them to Mal’s futon. Arthur was so out of it that he didn’t even twitch when Eames got a warm cloth, cleaning him up so that they wouldn’t stick together when they woke up. A slight spurt of trepidation caused Eames to wonder if he’d wake up alone again, but he quickly suppressed it, sighing and pulling the covers up over the both of them.  
  
He drifted off almost before his head hit the pillow.

Eames wrinkled his nose, blinking at the tiny chime, fumbling a little for his phone in the dark.

 

**MORON. (6:12 am)**

****Eames stared down at his text, rolling his eyes. Mal must have unjammed the cell phone signal. He frowned. Those things were supposed to be illegal.

 

**Mal, you sneaky bitch.**

**Ur deviousness knows no bounds. (6:15:am)**

**  
**He looked down at Arthur who was sprawled over his chest, still completely out of it. The feeling of contentment surprised him. Eames didn’t know if this was love, or lust, or some strange mixture of the two, but whatever it was, he was going to do everything in his power to _keep_ it. To keep Arthur.

**You're still a complete idiot. (6:15 am)  
**

 

There was definitely a lot to discuss before they made any plans, but one thing... one thing Eames wanted to take care of before Arthur awoke.

**Btw, darling. I quit.  (6:17 am)**

 

Eames smirked at his silent phone, imagining Mal’s shocked face. When the text came, it wasn’t quite what he expected.

**Ridiculous. Of course you do. (6:20 am)  
**

**Why do you think I hired Dom?  
It wasn't just for his lovely cock, I assure you** **. (6:20 am)**

**Already sent you severence pay** **. (6:20 am)**

**Thank me later. WITH JEWELRY.** **(6:21 am)**

Eames blinked, nonplussed. She really was a terribly interfering person. God, though. He couldn’t imagine not having her around. Arthur made a snuffling sound and burrowed a little further into Eames’ chest. Eames let his hand drift slowly through Arthur’s hair as he texted Mal back, one-handed.  
  
 **Good. We'll b out of here in few hrs.**

**U mite need 2 call cleaning co tho.**

**We left jizz on ur wall. (6:23 am)  
**

**& showr.  & bed.** **(6:24 am)**

  
Arthur sat up a little, smiling up at Eames as he blinked partially awake. “What’s up?”  
  
“Oh. Nothing. Just Mal.”

“Hmm. Don’t forget to remind her.” Arthur lightly kissed Eames’ skin, and the small, intimate gesture nearly made Eames’ heart skip a beat. _This_ was what he had missed their last time together. The fact that tonight wouldn’t be a repeat of waking up alone made him smile. His phone buzzed with Mal’s response, but before  
he read it Eames texted Mal back with a little smirk.

  
**...and ur desk. (6:33 am)  
**

 

When Eames finally drifted off, it was to the sound of Arthur’s steady heartbeat. And if he’d wrapped his arm around Arthur’s slightly bony shoulders a little tighter than what was probably normal, well. The only person who would possibly care was Arthur.  
  
And Arthur was wrapped just as tightly around Eames.  
  
  
  
THE END

Thanks for reading. :) ♥♥♥♥♥♥  
  
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